Fallen (but not FALLEN fallen)
by wolverinedoctorwho
Summary: After the stress of the Nopacalypse, Aziraphale cracks under the pressure of heaven, and finds the slippery slope to recovery is steeper than he could have ever imagined.
1. Help, I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

Aziraphale crumpled to the floor, one hand barely holding him up, the other hand thrashing at his bow tie. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? He wasn't even supposed to NEED to breathe.

He yanked the bowtie off and threw it across the room and he still couldn't breathe. By this point he wasnt even thinking straight enough to miracle himself okay, he could only think of two things:

One, he was going to discorporate alone in his shop over a single phone call,

Two, the sound of Her voice, echoing everything Gabriel had just said.

He slumped over, arms no longer strong enough to hold him up, and he felt hot tears run down his face as he shook horribly.

'At least Crowley isn't here to see me,' he thought before he passed out.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley called into the empty shop. The door had been locked when he got here, but Aziraphale had given him a spare set of keys in case of an emergency. The lights were still on, but the air was stale, as though nothing in the room had moved in the last few days. Crowley miracles the dust off everything, growing slightly more concerned. "Angel?"

He wove his way to the back of the shop, his worry rising with each silent minute that passed. Finally he reached Aziraphale's study, and he miraculously unlocked the door.

"Aziraphale!"

He rushed to the unconscious angel, shaking his shoulder. Aziraphale didn't stir. Not knowing what else to do, Crowley gently lifted his angel off the floor and carried him outside to the Bentley.

Aziraphale had woken several times over the last few days, though he didn't know how much time had passed. He'd barely been aware of his surroundings, his body going back into panic mode the second he came awake. This time, however, things were different. Brighter, louder, and the queasy sensation of moving incredibly fast. This was worse than the floor, and he felt himself spasm, barely registering the voice that tried to call out to him. Everything hurt more than it should have, and he again struggled to breathe. After a few minutes, his body decided it had had enough, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

The next time he woke, he was again somewhere different, albeit darker, softer, and gently quiet. His breath started to catch as his brain started to try to process where he was, but he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Angel, it's okay, you're okay, calm down. Breathe. Its okay."

Aziraphale shuddered, but Crowley hugged him tighter.

"Breathe with me, okay? C'mon. In!"

Crowley took an exaggerated deep breath in, and Aziraphale did his best to follow.

"Out."

The two breathed out together. They did this a few more times, until Aziraphale could breathe on his own. Once he was sure the angel wasn't going to panic again, Crowley loosened his grip, but still held on to the angel.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"No," Aziraphale croaked. Why was his voice so hoarse?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Aziraphale coughed. Crowley pulled a cup of water from off his bedside table and handed it to the angel, who sipped it carefully.

"What can I do for you, dear?" Crowley asked earnestly. Aziraphale focused on not choking on his water before replying.

"Tea?" He asked, throat still sore. He rubbed his throat to get the point across.

"Right, got it. Keep breathing until I come back, okay?"

Aziraphale nodded. As the demon left the room, the angel set the empty cup on his nightstand and sunk back into bed, exhausted. He hadn't realized how tired he was until Crowley came back with the tea to find the angel half asleep. Crowley cuddled up to Aziraphale as the angel tenderly sipped at the honey-lemon concoction in his hands. He felt some of the warmth from the tea glow from his chest, and he sighed contentedly. He put the cup down on the nightstand and lay down again, letting Crowley curl around him like a cloud of smoke.

"Are you feeling any better?" Crowley asked softly.

"Mhm," Aziraphale replied.

"Do you need anything else?"

"A nap."

"Ah. I'll, er,"

"Stay, please."

"...okay."

Aziraphale was out in a matter of minutes, and Crowley couldn't help but smile at the way the angel clung to him.

Crowley had to admit, he was torn. On one hand, he was incredibly concerned at how the normally bright and cheery angel seemed so...lifeless. On the other hand, the way the angel clung to him for warmth, the way he would reach for him when the demon moved too far away in bed, and the way he would wrap himself in blankets and wander into the kitchen on good days was kind of cute. But it had been a week since he had found his angel collapsed on the floor, and he hadn't seen Aziraphale smile since then.

He'd kept the windows closed and the curtains drawn, because Aziraphale got twitchy when it was too bright. He'd gotten good at making tea for Aziraphale, though the angel, normally a fan of sweets, had turned down cups with even a middling amount of sugar. He'd learned not to say anything whenever the angel did emerge from his blanket fort to shower, but he couldn't help but notice that his angel was a bit slimmer than usual. He hadn't been eating...well, at all. He didn't seem to want to.

"Aziraphale," Crowley had asked one night. "Do you want to have dinner? We could call out for something, maybe some pizza or some chips?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You've not eaten anything lately-"

"I'm fine, Crowley."

The angel had wandered back into the bedroom and hadn't emerged until the next morning.

"Aziraphale. Can we talk?"

He'd locked the bedroom door. He hated to do it, but Crowley needed to have this conversation.

"Is everything okay?"

"That's what I want to ask you, Angel. You've barely eaten, you don't go outside, you don't even smile anymore. I don't want to pressure you if you feel like shit, but...I'm worried about you, Aziraphale. I need to know what's wrong, and if I can help, but I can't just watch you mope around anymore. Please. Tell me what's wrong."

Aziraphale looked down at his lap, letting his blanket fall around him.

"Gabriel said that...the only reason I haven't fallen yet is because I'm so useless even Hell wouldn't want me. He said that maybe he should sneak me into Hell, that I'm so...shit at my job that I'd be better off down there, I could muck things up and make our job easier upstairs."

"Azira-"

"He blames me for what happened at Tadfield! I know he does. He always teased me before, but now it's worse. 'Aziraphale, if you get any fatter you'll fall out of the sky.' 'Aziraphale, how does it feel knowing you ruined God's plan?' 'Aziraphale, why couldn't you just die when I told you to?' 'Aziraphale, why did God even let you hang around after you lost her sword? What are you good for anyway?' 'Aziraphale, why don't you just jump off a cloud and fall straight to hell? You'd be doing us all a favor-"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted, grabbing Aziraphale's shaking shoulders and catching the angel as he fell forward, sobbing.

"You know that's a load of shit, right? Gabriel's just upset he won't get to fight The Great Battle Against Hell, and he takes it out on you because-"

"Because I'm SOFT!" The angel wailed.

"-because he knows it'll hurt you, angel. He knows he can cut you down by saying all these horrible things, so he does, because it makes him feel better about himself."

"But he's right, my dear," Aziraphale moaned. "I'm soft, and I've mucked up so many jobs..."

"Aziraphale, stop it. You're lovely. And you're far from useless. You helped Adam and Eve after that garden business, while Gabriel would have let them die. You helped save the world from the apocalypse, while Gabriel was looking FORWARD to it. Without you, none of this would still be here. There'd be no Ritz, no ducks, no bookshop-

"But Crowley...Gabriel called me that day to tell me he didn't want me running the shop anymore."

"What?"

"He said I should go be more useful somewhere else, that clearly staying here in Soho was turning my brain and body to mush...he wants me to find somewhere else to hide out and be of more use...and he said She agreed with him."

"What? Where's his proof?"

"Proof? Crowley, we don't need proof that we've spoken to God. Angels like Gabriel have a more direct line to Her."

"Still, I don't believe that you leaving is part of the Plan."

"I tried to ask Her myself..."

"And?"

Aziraphale paused, fresh tears welling up in his red-rimmed eyes.

"She didn't answer!" He sobbed. Crowley pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing his back.

"Angel...She was probably just busy. That doesn't mean she agrees with him. Gabriel lies all the time, the git. He's wrong about this."

"C-Crowley..."

"I can prove it. Oh God! Lend me just a moment of your time!"

He jumped on top of the coffee table, spreading his arms wide.

"If Principality Aziraphale is not meant to stay in Soho, send me a sign! Turn me into a snake right now!"

Nothing happened.

"If Gabriel is right, and Aziraphale is a soft, useless oaf who'd be better off in Hell, turn my hair blue!"

Nothing happened.

"If Aziraphale is twice the angel Gabriel will ever be, flick the lights off!"

The lights flickered off and then came back on.

"Crowley," Aziraphale moaned, reaching out his hands for his demon, making little grabby motions with his fingers.

"If Aziraphale is meant to stay here with me, keeping London safe and thwarting my devilish wiles, conjure up a cuppa! Chamomile!"

A cup with delicate flowering on it appeared next to Crowley on the coffee table.

"Thank you! Thank you very much!"

Crowley stepped off the coffee table, arms still wide as he bowed to Aziraphale.

"You could have done those things yourself," Aziraphale correctly pointed out.

"Alright, one more trick then. If Gabriel is right, and you've mucked so much up you'd be better off in Hell, he wouldn't have been able to tell you, you would have just fallen after Tadfield. Heaven wouldn't have let you stay. Mind pulling out your wings for me?"

Aziraphale did so, a bit uncomfortably since it had been awhile. His brilliant white wings stretched out, a little bit of soot still on them from the airport, which Crowley miracled away and attached to a businessman's suitcase down the street.

"See? You're lovely," Crowley said gently, softly stroking one of the wings.

"Thank you," Aziraphale whispered. He pulled them back in.

"Point made, my dear. I think I'm going to have a nap now."

"Will you come eat with me after you wake up? We can go for a picnic if you feel up to it."

"I don't know, Crowley," Aziraphale said honestly. "I'll see how I feel after I wake up."

Suddenly the lights flickered off and on multiple times, and with a bit of a clatter a golden coffee cup appeared on the table, steaming with tea. Both beings jumped, startled.

"Wasn't me!" Crowley said. Aziraphale started crying again, but happier this time.

"Thank you," he said Upwards, feeling much better already.

Aziraphale slept for the next few days, but he looked better when he woke. He opened one of the windows one day, staring onto the streets below, and taking a deep breath of city air. He let Crowley order food almost every night, and ate, albeit hesitantly. Eventually, he only slept at night, and during the day came out to watch television with Crowley.

One sunny afternoon, Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who was trying to guess the correct answers on Family Feud before the contestants did.

"Can we go for a picnic?" He asked.

"Yeah, f'course," Crowley mumbled. "C'mon, you oaf, it's 'notebook!'"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said.

"Huh? Sorry." The TV turned itself off.

"Can we go for a picnic?" Aziraphale repeated.

"Are you sure?" Crowley asked, sitting up straight.

"I think so," Aziraphale responded. "I can't stay here forever. I need to get some fresh air, at the very least."

"Indeed," Crowley said, standing up. "I'll conjure up some food if you'll get dressed?"

Aziraphale stepped out of the shower, choosing to let his hair dry naturally. He had been forgoing a lot of small miracles he would normally do in favor of letting things happen naturally. At first it had been because thinking about Heaven made him tear up, but as he got used to using fewer miracles on himself he found he liked it. Maybe, when he was well enough to run his shop again, he might actually start selling some books for pocket money, rather than just miracleing the things he wanted into existence.

For now, though, he slipped into the clean clothes Crowley had gotten him. The light blue short sleeved button-up shirt and khaki shorts weren't entirely out of his comfort zone, but they were different enough that Aziraphale was still trying to figure out how much he liked them.

Fully dressed, he stepped into the bedroom to find Crowley, female-presenting and wearing a red sundress, sitting on the bed and slipping on some black flats. "Ready?" Crowley asked, reaching for a ovalish, white-trimmed pair of sunglasses (another change).

"Almost," Aziraphale said, grabbing a pair of sandals and sliding them on.

Crowley stood up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a picnic basket and meeting the angel at the front door.

"I'm right here with you," Crowley said, looking back at Aziraphale. "If you start to panic, if you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, grab my hand and let me know and I'll bring us right back. No shame in it at all. Alright?"

"Alright," Aziraphale gulped.

Together they stepped out of the apartment and went down the stairs, stopping just inside the front door.

Aziraphale stepped over the threshold.

It was warm. That was the first thing he noticed. It wasn't too bright, but enough that he closed his eyes, letting the sun wash over him. He listened to the sounds: people talking, cars speeding by, birds chirping.

"You alright?" Crowley asked.

"I think so."

"Okay. Do you want to drive?"

Aziraphale stiffened.

"Walking it is. Hold my hand?"

The two walked, slowly, to the park, holding hands the whole time.

The ground was firm, the grass vibrant, and the air sweet. Crowley had gotten him a popsicle from the ice cream truck, and he was enjoying the flavor. He got up to go throw away the stick, though it was a bit of a walk away. He enjoyed it, though, letting himself fully appreciate the nature. Just as he reached the trashcan he was pushed to the ground by...well, he barely saw who it was. He just felt a hand on his shoulders and a sharp shove and he fell, landing hard in the dirt. He heard a teenager's laugh as his saboteur ran away. Disgruntled. He pulled himself up, tossing his popsicle stick and dusting himself off.

He made his way back to the picnic blanket. On his way there, he passed by the gazebo he and Crowley had once stood in, threatening to never see each other again. Despite knowing things were different now, he couldn't help but feel a twinge in his chest. Especially since there was a trumpet player underneath the gazebo, playing...rather badly. But the playing reminded him enough of the trumpets of heaven, so without thinking he miracled a better trumpet and a different song into the student's hands, which he immediately regretted. He had forgotten how it felt to perform a miracle. It wasn't much, in fact he had barely noticed before, but the small rush of power that flowed through him like a river as he cast a miracle made his breath hitch and his knees wobble.

He moved more quickly now, having to stop every few minutes to catch his breath. At one point a jogger pushed past him, throwing a glare over her shoulder at him.

Now his hands were shaking. He made it back to the blanket and fell onto it, vision going sideways.

"Are you alright?" He heard Crowley ask.

"Tickety-boo," he said carefully, his voice sounding off-color and alien. He lay on his back and stared at the sky, trying to keep his breath from moving too quickly.

"Aziraphale?"

He closed his eyes. He could feel the stress taking over now.

"I don't want to leave just yet," he said quietly. "It's so nice out."

"Can I do anything, angel?"

"Hold my hand and lie with me."

And they did. They lay there under the sun, completely silent, holding hands. And while the stress didn't completely fade away, Aziraphale realized he did feel much better.

He smiled.


	2. You Go WAY Too Fast For Me

It took over a month to get Aziraphale to agree to ride in the Bentley again.

After a few more weeks of camping out at Crowley's flat, he had gone back to the bookshop, "to make sure things are tickety-boo," he said. He'd walked by himself, and Crowley had spent the whole time staring at his phone, wondering both if it would ring and when he got so overprotective. He'd given Aziraphale his own phone - insisted, actually. Old habits die hard for even older angels but Crowley wanted to make sure his angel could reach him in case he collapsed again. He'd gotten him a phone similar to a Jitterbug - with one large button to call Crowley and not much else.

Finally, the phone rang. Crowley picked it up within a few seconds.

"Crowley?"

"Aziraphale, hold the phone closer to your face, like I showed you."

"Ah, right. Sorry it took me so long, I'm well worn out." He sounded like he was exhausted.

"How's the shop?"

"I haven't gone in yet. Wanted you with me."

"Well, go on then!"

A rattle of keys and a creaky door.

"Oh, it's so dusty in here! I'll need to find a broom somewhere. Alright, everything looks the way it should. Just a bit of tidying up should be fine. I think I have a broom in one of the closets..."

Aziraphale set the phone down on the front desk and wandered off, oblivious to Crowley's calls. Finally, Crowley sighed and hung up, snapping his fingers and appearing in the bookshop, his entrance stirring a cloud of dust.

"Oh! Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped from a broom closet. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"It sounded like you needed help," Crowley shrugged.

"Oh, well. Thank you!" Aziraphale wasnt blushing, he couldn't be. He was just winded from the walk earlier.

"I think I have a spare broom if you'd like to sweep," Aziraphale said, "or you could organize some of the books I left laying around."

"I could just miracle this up," Crowley pointed out.

"I'd rather do this the, er...old fashioned way, if that's alright with you."

"Of course. Your shop."

The two of them set to work, sweeping, dusting, organizing, and setting up the whole shop, sneezing occasionally as they realized dust had been collecting around here even before Adam had remade the shop and had somehow managed to stay afterwards. By the end of the day, the shop was nearly spotless, and the celestial beings leaned against the front desk, absolutely beat. Crowley miracled his own sweat away, while Aziraphale thought about the flat above his shop he'd never used for more than a decoration before.

"Do you want to come upstairs for some tea?" He asked Crowley. "It's the least I could do."

"Nah, don't worry about it. This was almost a little fun. Do you want to get dinner? I could drive us to that sushi place that's miraculously expanded its hours."

"Oh, Crowley...I don't know..." Aziraphale wrung his hands together nervously.

"I'll drive slowly," Crowley assured. "Won't even touch the speed limit."

"Oh, well...alright then. But I'll need to shower and change first, I'm a horrible mess."

While Aziraphale took a nice, warm shower, Crowley wandered around the shop, eventually coming back to the office where he had found the angel lying that day. Something in his gut shifted as he remembered the way the angel looked: tense, shaking, barely aware of where he was. Shaking his head, Crowley noticed the landline phone was still not hung up. He strode over to it, rather tersely putting the phone back on the receiver. Then he miracled the room tidy and organized before walking back to the main desk.

Aziraphale came down the stairs eventually, looking a bit sheepish. "So sorry for the wait," he said. "I couldn't quite figure out what to wear."

He'd chosen a white button-up shirt and a pair of khaki pants, which to Crowley's dismay looked a bit big on him.

"Everything alright?" He asked the angel.

"I'd rather not talk about it right now," Aziraphale said quietly. "The car?"

They walked outside to the Bentley, locking the shop behind them.

Aziraphale paled a bit as he climbed into the passenger side of the car, buckling himself in with a seatbelt he assumed was there.

"Maybe one of these days I'll teach you to drive," Crowley offered as he climbed into the driver's seat. Aziraphale just focused on looking out the front window, hands already kneading his legs.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, leaning over to get the angel's attention, which worked.

"I promise I won't go too fast for you. Okay? We'll start slowly. Let me know if I go to fast and I'll pull over. Swear on my life."

"Crowley..." Aziraphale sighed, nodding. "Alright. Let's go then."

The drive was bad for both of them. Aziraphale spent the whole time tense, while Crowley spent the whole time worrying about Aziraphale and miracling the horns of everyone around him silent. They went dreadfully slow, almost a crawl. Finally, Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

"I'm sorry, Angel, but if I don't speed up it'll be tomorrow before we get there. Hold on."

He sped up to a normal driving speed, driving as carefully as possible, sneaking glances at his angel every so often.

They made it to the sushi place without any incident, parking properly outside. Aziraphale leaned forward, face in his hands, working to catch his breath.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, reaching out and touching the angel's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "Can we go in?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, just give me a moment."

Crowley leaned over and hugged his angel, patting him on the back. "Ready when you are."

After a bit of time at the sushi place Aziraphale looked much better. He still wasn't eating as much, mostly just picking at his roll and looking torn.

"Talk to me, Aziraphale."

"I'm alright!" Aziraphale snapped, looking immediately regretful. "Oh, Crowley, I'm sorry. I'm just...tired, my dear."

"Of course. Why don't you eat something? Maybe you'll feel better?"

Aziraphale looked away. He knew the sushi would be good, but thinking about eating right now made his stomach turn.

"Look, how about this. I'll eat a piece, then you eat a piece. Once I've had enough, we can stop. Alright?"

Aziraphale looked unsure, but Crowley popped a piece of sushi in his mouth before reaching down with his chopsticks and moving to feed a piece to Aziraphale, who reluctantly ate it. It was definitely scrumptious. The two of them went on like this for a few minutes, with Aziraphale eventually eating by himself. After a good few plates, Crowley stretched. "Right then. I'm stuffed. How about you?"

Aziraphale, who wasnt quite full yet, nodded in agreement. Crowley looked at him suspiciously.

"Should we get dessert?" The devil asked.

"No," the angel tried to deny.

"I think I will," the devil proclaimed. He flagged down a waiter and ordered two slices of Aziraphale's favorite cake.

"Crowley...really, I shouldn't..."

"C'mon, angel, you're not still thinking about what Gabriel said? You look fine. C'mon, for me?"

Aziraphale fretted. Even if he was stressing his angel out a little, Crowley noted that "fretting over whether to have a slice of cake" stress wasn't as rough on the angel as "oh god we're driving above 5 miles an hour" stress.

"You can't keep holding yourself back, angel. It's not healthy for you."

"I'm not holding myself back. I'm just not hungry. I'm fine."

"Aziraphale, look at yourself! You can't honestly tell me you haven't noticed what you're doing to your body."

"I have noticed. And I'm fine. I'm doing this on purpose."

"What?"

"Gabriel is right. I don't look how an angel is supposed to. I need to start putting an effort into how I look."

"You already look good! Gabriel is full of shit."

He grabbed the angel's hands, pulling one of them away from his stomach, where it had been subconsciously playing with the rolls for the last few minutes.

"Aziraphale, I hate to put it like this, but who are you going to believe? Gabriel, who's been trying to break you down since Eden, or me, who thinks you've always been lovely just the way you are?"

Aziraphale didn't say anything. The cake arrived, and their waiter set a slice in front of each of them. Aziraphale's eyes welled up.

"I want to go home," he said softly, not meeting Crowley's eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want to at least nibble the cake? I got your favorite."

Aziraphale's taste buds tingled, but his eyes fell down to his stomach. "I can't," he whispered.

Before Crowley could say another word, Aziraphale, not thinking straight, teleported himself back to his own flat.

Back home, with the tingles of teleportation burning his skin, he threw off his clothes, hopped into bed, buried himself in soft blankets, and slept.

Next time he woke, his phone was on the nightstand next to him, and he picked it up. "30 missed calls," the screen read. Aziraphale sighed and put the phone next to him in bed, letting the messages play.

"Aziraphale, it's me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I...I'm worried about you, I hope you see that. I left the leftovers in your fridge in case you want them later, but...no pressure. What you want to do with your body is your business, I just want you to be safe. Call me back when you get this."

"Aziraphale? I'm sure you're still asleep. I'm sorry, I'll, er, let you rest."

"Aziraphale, I'm going to go see Adam and the Them. It's been awhile, I feel bad for not checking in. Let me know if you want to come. Hope to hear from you soon."

"Hey. I didn't wind up going after all. Not much to say, really. I'm not great with people and. Well. It just wouldn't feel right without you there. Call me back when you get the chance."

"Hey! Sorry for calling so much. I hope you're doing better. Please call me."

"Angel, I'm going to Hell for a few days. I'll call you when I get back. Hope Heaven hasn't stolen you away."

"Aziraphale...where are you? Please call me back."

The rest of the messages were all like that. A greeting, an anecdote, an expression of worry, a request for a call back. Just as Aziraphale finished the last of the messages, his phone rang.

"Hullo?"

"AZIRAPHALE! Oh, thank someone. Are you okay?"

"I think so. Just woke up. What day is it?"

"Day? Angel, you've been asleep for a month! Have you listened to my messages?"

"Yes, all of them."

"Stay where you are, I'm coming over. You're still in your flat, aren't you?"

"Crowley-"

He heard the phone click and his front door open, and he buried his head in the blankets, closing his eyes. Maybe he'd get lucky and go to sleep again.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley said, softly, as he opened the bedroom door. "Oh, angel," he said, unknowingly chipping away at Aziraphale's heart. He strode over to the bed, kicking off his shoes and sitting down on it.

"May I come in?" The devil asked.

"No," the angel replied.

"What if I bring you some water?"

A pause.

"Temptation accomplished," the angel sighed.

Crowley left and came back with a glass of water, and Aziraphale poked his head out of the blanket to sip from it.

"No offense, angel, but you look terrible."

Crowley was right. Aziraphale looked gaunt. Despite having slept for a month, he looked like he could easily sleep for another year.

The angel shrugged, setting the glass down and burying himself in the blankets once more.

"May I join you?" Crowley asked.

"...yes," Aziraphale replied. Crowley flung his clothes off and slithered under the blankets, using his hands to find Aziraphale and wrap himself around the angel.

"Will you talk to me, dear?" Crowley asked. "About what's bothering you? I promise I won't push."

There was a few minutes worth of pause before Aziraphale spoke.

"I hate my body. I hate how it looks, how it feels, how I can always feel my stomach brushing against my clothes, how nothing looks right on me anymore, and I'd rather lie here in the dark than have to look at myself. I know it's stupid. I know I shouldn't take what Gabriel said to heart. But I can't help it. I'm just not good enough, and I can't help but want to be better. And I know you worry about me, and I know you like the way I look, but you don't live inside my head. You don't know what it feels like to look like this. Nobody in Hell ever pokes fun at how you look. No matter how much you like me, no matter how much you say I'm beautiful, it just doesn't...make sense."

Crowley's hug was much tighter now. "Oh dear...oh love...I'm so sorry..." he moaned into Aziraphale's chest. He wiggled down and rubbed his face against the angel's tummy.

"To think...sso much negative emotion around thisss tummy...ssso ssssssoft...ssssssso warm..."

"Stop it," Aziraphale begged. Crowley, in response, began placing butterfly kisses all over the angel's soft center.

"Crowley, please, I'm having an emotional moment, stop kissing my love handles!"

"Make me," Crowley teased, sticking his tongue in Aziraphale's belly button. The angel squealed.

"That's it!" He bellowed, hands jumping to Crowley's sides and tickling him with gusto. Crowley hissed.

"Ssssssssssssssssstop!!" Crowley whined.

"Make me!" Aziraphale cried triumphantly.

Two hours of cuddling and kissing later, and the blankets forgotten on the floor, the two goofballs sat across from each other on the bed, catching their breath.

"Thank you...for that..." Aziraphale breathed. "I...needed that."

"Feeling...better?" Crowley coughed. Aziraphale nodded.

"Good." Crowley lay back, landing on the bed with a thump.

"Do you still have that cake in your fridge?" He asked.

"I honestly haven't checked," Aziraphale admitted.

"If I go get it, will you eat some?"

Aziraphale looked away, hand going back to his stomach, but Crowley grabbed it. "Aziraphale?"

"Alright, alright. Today I'll eat a slice of cake. But no promises on tomorrow. Fair?"

"Fair." Crowley stood up, stretching, and walked into the kitchen, leaving Aziraphale to take his own turn of falling backwards onto the bed. He spent a few seconds watching his stomach rise and fall with his breath before rubbing his face and getting up to put a shirt on.

The cake was delicious, and as he nibbled at it, Aziraphale realized that, after sleeping for a month, he was positively starving.


	3. Truth or Dare

"Any 4s?"

"Go fish."

A good old fashioned game of cards. No miracles, no cheating, no shifting reality, just the two of them, a deck of cards, the rain outside, and instructions from a book Aziraphale had found downstairs. Crowley had gotten his angel a fuzzy pair of pyjamas and just wearing them had Aziraphale doing the happy wiggles all evening, while Crowley was satisfied with a simple t-shirt and jeans.

Crowley sighed and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box next to him, looking at Aziraphale expectantly. Aziraphale caught his glance and grabbed his own slice, nibbling quietly. They'd been doing this all afternoon, and Crowley was happy he'd finally gotten the angel to have an actual meal today.

"What other games are in that book?" He asked. Aziraphale shrugged, wiping his hands clean before checking the table of contents.

"Many things indeed. Take a look?" He thrust the book at Crowley, who skimmed the pages.

"Ugh. Boring," he said, getting up to throw away the empty pizza box.

"Boring?"

"Yep," Crowley said, popping the "p". "Did I ever show you video games?"

"I don't believe so. Why?"

"There's this one I think you would like. I'll bring it tomorrow if you want."

"Alright, but you have to show me how to play it."

"Deal. Now then, let's play...truth or dare!"

"Truth or dare? I don't-"

"Aziraphale. Angel. Principality. Please. Do not sit here. And tell me. You've never heard. Of truth or dare."

Aziraphale blushed. Crowley sighed.

"Dear, you are horribly uneducated. Let me explain. We each take turns asking each other Truth or Dare. If you pick Truth, you have to answer a question. If you pick Dare, you have to do something. If you refuse to do one thing you have to do the other. Sound easy enough?"

"Yes, dear," Aziraphale laughed.

"Alright then. You go first."

"Alright. Er...Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"Oh. I dare you to...take off your sunglasses."

"That all? Alright." Crowley set his sunglasses down on the table in front of him. "Truth or Dare, angel?"

"Hm...Truth."

"Alright. Be honest. Did you like the pizza we had tonight?"

"Hmm...well, it was nice, but I don't think that pineapple agreed with me very well. I'm not sold on the idea of hot fruit, I'm afraid."

"That's fair. Thank you for trying it, though."

"You're welcome! Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"What game are you bringing me tomorrow?"

"It's called Animal Crossing. You have your own little town and house and you can pick fruit, work in a coffee shop, visit an island, and there's all these other villagers you can make friends with. It's a very relaxing game, and I've heard it's good for, er...people having a rough time."

"Sounds adorable! I'll take Dare next if you don't mind."

"Good! I dare you to wear my glasses."

Aziraphale obliged, looking more than a bit ridiculous. "I think they look better on you, dear. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to...hmm. Er..."

"Come on, angel, out with it.'

"I dare you to kiss my cheek."

"That all? My pleasure." Crowley leaned across the table and chastely kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. "Truth or Dare?" He whispered into the angel's ear, making a shiver run down his spine.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale jumped. "Fine, Dare."

"I dare you to kiss MY cheek."

Aziraphale grumbled and blushed a bit, but obliged. "Truth or Dare?" He asked after sitting back down.

"Dare."

"I dare you to play the rest of the game with your wings out. I don't think I've seen them since Tadfield."

"Alright." Crowley grinned, pulling off his Velvet Underground t-shirt and letting his wings out.

"Y-You didn't have to do that," Aziraphale protested, blushing and looking away.

"Do you want me to stop?" Crowley asked sincerely.

"...no..." Aziraphale admitted. Crowley laughed.

"Alright then. Truth or Dare?"

"...Truth?"

"Hmm...Got to think about this one," Crowley said melodramatically.

"Do you like looking at me like this, angel?"

Aziraphale covered his face with his hands. "Yes," he mumbled.

"Can't hear you!" Crowley joked, ready to back off if he was really upsetting his angel.

"Yes!" Aziraphale shouted. "I think you're very handsome."

"Awww, see? Easy. I'll take Truth next, go on."

"Do you...that is, am I..."

"I'll save you the effort, Aziraphale. I think you're very handsome as well. Not to mention cute!" Crowley grinned.

Before the angel could melt, Crowley moved on with the game. "Truth or Dare?"

"I'm scared to pick. Dare?"

"I dare you to play with your wings out, like me. You don't have to take your shirt off if you don't want to, but I certainly wouldn't mind if you did."

"I think I'll keep it on if that's alright." Aziraphale sighed and settled back, flexing his back so his wings would come out.

Nothing happened.

"Azira-"

"Hold on, I'm trying!"

No matter what he did, nothing seemed to work. It was like they weren't there at all.

"Aziraphale?"

"I can't find them, Crowley."

"Let me try, angel." Crowley tried to reach into the celestial plane to pull out Aziraphale's wings for him, but he felt nothing.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale's voice cracked. He looked terrified, and felt more so when Crowley looked at him with the exact same expression.

"Oh, Aziraphale..."

The man started to cry.

"Angel, it's going to be alright..."

"I don't think you can call me that anymore, Crowley..."

The two of them embraced, Crowley wrapping his wings around his partner, both of them now crying.

"Why?" Aziraphale whispered. "Why me? Why now? Why didn't I just Fall?"

"I don't know," Crowley replied. "But I promise I'll do what I can to find out."

"What am I going to do?" Aziraphale sobbed. "Am I going to...to die?"

"Not while I'm here, Aziraphale."

They stayed like that for a bit, not wanting to let each other go. Eventually Crowley sniffled and sat up.

"Let's go to bed," he suggested. "We can figure things out in the morning. Alright?"

Aziraphale nodded. He let Crowley help him walk to the bedroom and together they fell into a fitful sleep.


	4. Crowley Goes to Starbucks

AN: Just figured I'd let yall know that I've just made an ao3 account, and after I get out of class today I will be posting all of this on there as well and all future chapters will be cross-posted. Thanks!

* * *

*Anthony J. Crowley created the group chat "Mayday"*

*Anthony J. Crowley added two people to the group chat*

Anthony J. Crowley: So, I know we don't all know each other very well, but you were both a big help in Tadfield and I need your help again

AC: Aziraphale has been having a very rough time lately. He hasn't been eating or sleeping well and doesn't like using his angelic abilities. The other night he tried to pull out his wings and we couldn't find them. I realize this is not in your fields of expertise but I don't know what to do.

*Marjorie Potts set her nickname to "Madame Tracy"*

Madame Tracy: How horrible! I ought to bring him some tea.

Anathema Device: oh god you want me to use the book again dont you

AC: temptation is my whole job

AD: Newton and I agreed to stop using it because we wanted to live our own lives.

AC: that's fair but are you sure I cant look at it

MT: Why don't you just ask Adam for help? He seemed rather nice.

AC: Hes a child

AD: Hes a child!

AC: Plus hes still the antichrist

AD: but also a small boy

AC: yes that too

MT: I still think it would be a good idea.

AC: only as an absolute last resort

AC: anyway anathema can I please borrow the book

AD: sure

AD: tbh you can take the damn thing

AD: when should I drop it off? can I come see Aziraphale?

AC: I'll have to ask him

MT: What sort of tea does he like?

AC: I'll find out once I know if he's cool with having people over

MT: [thumbs up emoji]

Crowley set his phone down and rubbed his face. His phone buzzed again.

*Anathema Device sent a message*

AD: should we ask that witch hunter guy? I know he tried to kill az or w/e but maybe he knows something about heaven

AD: also do you wanna get lunch

AD: I wanna ask you about az but I would rather do it in person

AC: just me?

AD: yeah

AD: dont get me wrong I wanna see az too but I wanna know how things are going with u first

AD: when r u free

AC: today if you want

AC: Aziraphale is still asleep

AD: does he do that a lot now?

AC: yeah

AC: slept for a month after I tried to take him for sushi

AD: tell me more at lunch!

AD: do you drink coffee? I've got a Starbucks giftcard I've been meaning to burn

AC: never been but ok

AD: be there at 2?

AC: cool

Crowley tugged at the collar of his shirt. He'd opted for red instead of black today and was now wishing he had worn something less obvious. He carried his unicorn frappuccino to the back of the cafe, looking around for a slightly familiar mess of brown hair.

"You drink that crap?"

"Makes a few more lives harder if I order it," Crowley said, turning around. "Gets me some brownie points with Hell."

Anathema shrugged, gesturing to an open table.

"What did YOU get?" Crowley asked.

"Matcha green tea frappe. The usual."

"Fair. What did you want to talk about?"

"A lot, honestly. I feel like I barely know you two. Start from the beginning."

And so, over the course of a few hours, Crowley told Anathema everything, starting with the garden and ending with the disappearance of Aziraphale's wings.

"Christ," Anathema said.

"Yeah, bit of an awkward time, that was."

"No, I mean...that's a lot to work through. How are you holding up?"

"Me? I...I'm alright. Mostly just worried about Aziraphale. But I've been taking care of myself too."

"Good! Can't draw from an empty well, y'know."

"Yeah. He's just...so different. Some days he's been happier, almost like he used to be, but most of the time he's so somber. And now that his wings are gone, he barely even speaks anymore. I know its different for you humans. You're not going to suddenly not be human. But for us, you're either an angel, or a demon, or dead. And to be neither? I'll admit, even I don't know what's going on."

"Are you sure he's not an angel anymore? Like, 100%?"

"He can't pull out his wings, that's all we know."

"Has he tried any miracles?"

"He uh...hasn't been doing any since he er...you know. It's...it makes him twitchy. Last time he did it was that time he slept for a month."

"Is it a trigger?"

"A wot?"

"A trigger. Anything that sets him off, makes him "twitchy"."

"I...guess?"

"Any others you've noticed?"

"Ah...bright lights, moving too quickly, people being mean to him, pretty much anything that reminds him of Heaven...his figure is a whole other issue..."

"Yikes, that's a lot. Has he had any other panic attacks?"

"He's come close a few times. There was one time in the park where he seemed off but he said he didn't want to go home, and right after I brought him to my flat and he was breathing pretty heavily..." Crowley sighed. "Any of that help?"

"Yeah, honestly. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Crowley said. "Did you bring the book?"

Anathema nodded, wiping off the table with her arm before pulling an old book and a smaller notebook out of her bag.

"I went ahead and translated a few passages I assumed referred to you two. A lot of what I found has already happened. "An angel will fall without Falling, and will hide himself from the light and dangers of the world. A demon will commit crimes of unspeakable goodness. A unicorn and a patch of grass will share lunch."

"Pretty vague."

"I mostly wrote summaries. Anyway, here's what else I found.

"A village of animals will capture the angel. The angel will learn the way to his demon's heart."

"It still refers to him as 'angel', that's good."

"'A large amount of stress stifles the true power of the soul, but a gentle breeze allows wings to burst forth.' That one sounds like a fortune cookie, how'd that get in here?"

"That one sounds interesting, actually. Any others?"

"An unlikely ally becomes a powerful asset. Chamomile tea, if you please. The boy's help is not needed."

She closed the big book. "That's all I've found so far. Any of that help?"

"I think so. Will you send me your notes?"

"Here," Anathema said, snapping a quick few photos with her phone. Crowley's phone buzzed.

*Anathema Device sent 3 photos*

Crowley swiped the notification away, freezing when he saw another one.

*Missed Call from Aziraphale*

"Shit," the demon said. "Aziraphale's awake."

"Do what you gotta do," Anathema said. "I'll let you know if I find anything else important. Keep me posted on how he's doing, alright?"

"Will do," Crowley said, getting up from his chair.

"Oh! I think I remember one more thing!" Anathema opened the book again.

"If demon brings the angel a warm cup of roasted beans, he opens many doors."

"Anything in particular?"

"He's your angel. The book doesn't offer many hints. But I suggest one of the new caramel things."

"Aziraphale! Are you alright? I'm sorry, I haven't listened to your..."

Sitting just inside the door of the shop were Aziraphale and Madame Tracy.

"Oh, hullo," Crowley said awkwardly. "Brought you something, Aziraphale. Sorry I didn't get you anything, Tracy, I didn't know you were coming today."

"Well, of course! I read your messages and thought I should come over today! I brought a cake!"

"A...cake?" Crowley handed Aziraphale the coffee, and his partner took it gladly, free of the eye of conversation.

"Of course! Cake always cheers me up when I feel terribly, so I thought he might like some too. Poor thing needs something sweet to keep the meat on his bones!"

Crowley and Aziraphale made eye contact, sharing an unspoken conversation.

"I am so so sorry," Crowley said.

"We're talking about this later," Aziraphale replied.

"Well, I must get going, I have an appointment at four and it takes me ever so long to set things up in my boudoir. Enjoy the cake, dears!" And with that, Madame Tracy left, leaving the bookshop painfully silent.

"I want to be clear right now," Crowley said before Aziraphale could open his mouth. "I didn't say she could come over. I don't even know how she found the shop. I'll admit I had texted her asking for help, but I was planning on giving her a specific time to come over once I had asked you if it was okay."

"Ah. Thank you for clarifying, dear. Sit down?" Aziraphale seemed to relax a bit, but Crowley still looked nervous.

"I was going to tell you once you woke up. I texted her and Anathema, and Anathema said she'd bring the book of prophecies if I met her for coffee. Which we did. Found some good stuff, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Here, let me show you her notes."

Crowley showed Aziraphale the conversation he'd had with both women and the picture of Anathema's notes.

"It keeps referring to you as 'the angel'. We took that as a good sign. I think we can get through this, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale nodded. "Thank you, dear. I do feel a little bit better knowing that."

"Anathema had asked if you could still do miracles. I told her why you couldn't, but..."

"You want me to try to do one."

"Only if you're comfortable with it! I don't want to hurt you."

"I appreciate it. Will you hold my hand?"

Crowley obliged. Aziraphale took a deep breath, concentrated on the cake Madame Tracy had brought them, and snapped his fingers. It transformed from a brown mystery to a beautiful slice of carrot cake.

"Holy shit," Crowley breathed. Aziraphale leaned against him.

"That didn't feel quite so bad," he lied, his voice trembling. "But I think I'd like to lie down now."


	5. Caffeine Rush

Crowley knocked on the door of Aziraphale's flat, waiting a moment before miracling it open. With him he carried a large plant, with green leaves and white flowers.

"Brought you something," he called.

"Set it in the kitchen?" Aziraphale yelled back.

Crowley obliged, glancing around the living room. Aziraphale emerged from the bedroom, striding over to his demon and giving him a hug.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Good," Crowley replied. "You seem pretty well yourself."

"I've been playing that game you gave me all morning. It's been such fun! Thank you, dear."

"Glad to hear you enjoy it. Have you eaten?"

"Well..."

"Aziraphale..."

"I've had coffee! I rather liked that one you gave me the other day, so I dug around in the shop and found a book on different drinks and I've been trying it out. Nothing's quite the same, mostly because I lack proper ingredients, but I've given it a good go."

"I can tell," Crowley said to Aziraphale, who was bouncing up and down a little.

"Wanna go for a walk? We can pick up proper ingredients and I'll see if I can find a recipe online. Besides, it'll help you burn off that extra energy."

"Sounds good! Let me get dressed." And with that, Aziraphale went back into his room. Crowley, meanwhile, set the plant up in the kitchen window.

"Don't you go giving him any trouble," he said to the plant. "You're one of my crop, you represent me, and if I hear you've lost a single leaf you'll be out of here before it hits the floor. Got it?"

"Ready, dear?" Aziraphale called. Crowley straightened up and went back to the front door. "Yep. Ready when you are."

"I've been thinking a bit about what you said before,"Aziraphale said, "about being on our own side."

"Yeah? What about it?" Crowley asked.

Aziraphale shrugged. "Mostly just thinking about it. Could we really DO that? Be on our own side? Not be an angel or a demon anymore? What would that look like?"

"Aside from what happened when you thought you weren't an angel anymore?"

"Fair point. It was absolutely awful to think that I wasn't...you know? But now that I've had a moment to think about it, if we could do it on our own, like if we PLANNED to, it might be better."

"Have you gotten your wings back?" Crowley asked, suspecting he was mostly speaking to caffeine and wanting to change the subject.

"No,"Aziraphale said sadly. "But I've been reading the notes you wrote out for me. There's something we're overlooking, my dear."

"Like what?"

"...I don't know. But I'm sure there's something."

They made it to the corner store, and as they were about to step inside the automatic doors opened and a duck walked out, carrying a tube of chapstick in its beak. Crowley and Aziraphale shared a look, confirming they had both seen the duck, and then went inside.

Safely back home, Aziraphale plopped down on the couch, beat.

"I think we can wait to do coffee tomorrow, dear," he sighed. "I'm going to become a vegetable for a few hours."

"Healthy snack," Crowley thought out loud.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing!!! Do you want something to drink?"

"Water is fine, love."

"Ngk," Crowley said gracefully, before rushing off to the kitchen.

"Oh, what did you bring me earlier?"

"A peace lily. One of mine. Figured having something to take care of might help you feel better, and they're supposed to help with air purifying which is good if you're inside a dusty old bookshop all day. All you have to do is make sure it gets enough water and sunlight."

"Sounds lovely, dear."

Crowley came back to the living room with two glasses of water, sitting next to Aziraphale on the couch.

"Did you have any other plans today?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley shook his head.

"Why, were you thinking of something?"

"I'd like to...well, it seems silly out loud. But I was wondering if...we could watch a movie together, just lying here together."

"If you want to cuddle, you can just ask," Crowley mumbled, blushing.

"Well, I. I do." Aziraphale giggled. Crowley assumed the caffeine hadn't gotten fully out of his system yet, but figured he'd humor the good mood.

"Alright then. What movie should we watch?"

"I don't know. Certainly nothing scary. Will you pick, dear?"

"If you fetch a blanket, I'll find something to watch," Crowley agreed, standing up and looking for the remote.

At first, Crowley was worried something was wrong with Aziraphale.

He'd seen him be this happy and boisterous before, and he could be a bit of a shit if he wanted to, but he couldn't remember Aziraphale being this...cuddly. It was driving him mad. Flirting with Aziraphale was one thing, offering to run away to the stars with him was another, but actually being here? Touching one another, in a way that wasn't just a tight hug after a panic attack? This was the best. This was wonderful. If it weren't for the devil on Crowley's shoulder telling the demon he didn't enjoy it, didn't deserve it, didn't CRAVE it, he might have enjoyed himself more.

Azraphale had come back with a blanket and had just about thrown himself into Crowley's lap. Crowley had chosen a baking show rather than a movie, and they had a nice time of watching amateur bakers fail miserably at attempting to recreate an elaborate cake.

"Comfy?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale hummed in response, wiggling a little bit. Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on top of Aziraphale's head, giving him a gentle massage and running his hands through Aziraphale's hair. Aziraphale cooed.

They stayed like that for awhile, and after awhile Crowley could hear Aziraphale softly snoring. He smiled, closing his eyes and leaning down to kiss his angel's forehead, when he noticed a sudden absence of body in his lap.

Aziraphale was gone.


	6. Calling for Backup

"Welcome back, Aziraphale. Ah-ah, don't say anything. Just let me look at you.

"Been a long time since you've been up here, Aziraphale. Lost a bit of weight! Congratulations. I don't know that I agree with the outfit choices, but it's better than the fucking tweed.

"Now, I don't care about any of that. I care about the numbers. The miracles, Aziraphale. Where have they gone? You used to throw them away like they were nothing and now I don't think we've gotten any reports from you in a month. It's scary, Aziraphale. I'm worried about you. Truly, I am. Poor angel, alone in the world. Suddenly lost the motivation for miracles after the world didn't end, hmm?

"Why are you crying? Keep your head up, Aziraphale. I haven't done anything to hurt you.

"Look, I'm going to be honest with you, okay? Get your fucking numbers up. It's your fault the Earth is still turning, so you of all people should be working hard to keep it that way. If I don't see better numbers from you by the end of next month, we'll have to talk about your...options.

"Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to drop by. I know how hard it is to pull yourself away from all the fuss down there, but don't forget you're one of us. Oh, and Aziraphale?

"You better not try to run. Because if you do, it will be me pushing you off a damn cloud, and I will make sure it's very, very high."

"Calm down, dear, you're going to be fine."

"Deep breaths. In! Out. In! Out."

"Hold my hand, dear. There you go. You're alright."

"Can you still hear me? Talk to me, dear. Deep breaths!"

"Drink some water, you'll feel better. Don't choke! That's it, there you go."

Crowley never expected that Madame Tracy would be the one to talk him through a panic attack. But here she was, somehow doing everything right.

He had called her and Anathema right after Aziraphale vanished, and had collapsed after hanging up. He'd been awake the whole time and had managed to miracle the door open so the women could get in.

"Anathema! Grab the blanket off the couch, if you please."

Anathema did so, wrapping it around Crowley.

"Let me know if I need to let go," Madame Tracy said before hugging Crowley through the blanket.

Just being able to smell his angel again, along the sensation of being held, was enough to get Crowley breathing again. Eventually he was just sobbing, and Madame Tracy held him tighter.

"Oh, Crowley, dear. Everything is going to be alright. There has to be an explanation for where Aziraphale's gone to, and I'm sure he'll be back once he's able to. But you've got to be strong until he comes back, alright? We're here to help you get through this. Keep breathing, dear."

"He was right there," Crowley cried. "I was holding him. And then he was gone." He sniffled. "I know he's in trouble, and I was supposed to be able to help him, but...but I've lost my best friend again!"

"Don't worry, Crowley. We'll figure out what's going on. We just need to hope that Aziraphale comes back soon."

There was a loud bang and a flash of light, and Aziraphale appeared on the floor of the flat, shaking, soaked in sweat, and smelling of frankincense.

"Crowley," he gasped, reaching out. Crowley freed himself from the blanket and crawled over, throwing himself around Aziraphale.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"No!" Aziraphale replied.

"Neither am I," Crowley sobbed. Aziraphale started crying as well, breath shallow.

"Anathema," Madame Tracy called. "We'll need more tea."

"I am sworn to carry your burdens," Anathema muttered, too quietly for anyone but herself to hear.

"Where did you go?" Crowley asked.

"Gabriel...called me to Heaven," Aziraphale said.

"Oh, angel," Crowley groaned, holding Aziraphale tighter.

"Yes," Aziraphale said softly.

"It appears I am."

Crowley and Aziraphale didn't let go of each other for the rest of the day. They were either holding hands or hugging, just touching each other wasn't enough.

Anathema found it a bit annoying, but understood deep down. Madame Tracy had battered around the kitchen for some tea, and had managed to whip up two warm cups that the celestial boys were now holding in their spare hands.

Aziraphale told the group what Gabriel had said in between ships of tea, not minding that he was scalding himself in the process.

"Too bad there's no HR in Heaven," Anathema said. "It's not like you can just quit, unless that's how Falling works?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Crowley said, remembering his own downward saunter with a shudder.

"What should we do?" Madame Tracy asked.

"Sounds like we've got a month to figure it out," Anathema shrugged. "No sense worrying over it right now. These two need rest right now, and then we can figure out a plan when they aren't still in shock. Sound good?"

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale had slumped down next to him, looking like he was about to pass out already.

"Let's get some rest," he agreed.

"Aziraphale! Catch!"

Crowley threw a frisbee in Aziraphale's direction. Aziraphale jumped and caught it, landing gracefully back on his feet. He gave a little bow for Crowley, who ran across the park to give Aziraphale a hug.

"Look at you go! C'mere," he said, giving Aziraphale a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek. Aziraphale laughed and pulled away enough to look at Crowley, freezing solid.

Crowley's lips slid down his face, landing in the grass. "Are you all right, angel?" The lipless Crowley asked.

"Y-You..." Aziraphale stuttered as Crowley's eyes began to slide.

"What's the matter, dear? If there's something wrong with my face, you can just fix it."

Aziraphale tried to miracle Crowley solid again, but only succeeded in making the demon more and more of a goop. He melted into the grass like a snowman in June.

"You can fix it, can't you, angel?"

Aziraphale snapped awake, breathing heavily. He sat up, hand flying to his fluttering stomach, and he threw himself out of bed, rushing to the bathroom and trying to throw up as quietly as possible so as not to wake Crowley. Out of his mouth came not food, but golden, syrupy ichor.

'What's happening to me?' Aziraphale thought, hands shaking as he looked at his face in the mirror. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a disaster and had a few silver hairs in it, and his eyes...his eyes were now a dirty grey, with no trace of blue left.

Stepping away from the mirror, he covered his face with his hands, taking a moment to collect himself before washing his hands and face and going back to bed. Before he climbed in, however, he walked over to Crowley's side, carefully inspecting his face. Lips, eyes everything there. Aziraphale ran a hand down Crowley's face, and the demon popped an eye open, squinting.

"Aziraphale? What time is it?"

"Dunno," Aziraphale admitted.

"Bad dream?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley stretched his arms out and Aziraphale fell into them, sniffling.

"I'm right here, Aziraphale. You're alright."

"I'm not," Aziraphale whispered.

"Fair," Crowley chuckled. "I don't think either of us are."

"I wish this wasn't happening. I wish we could just go back to how things were before Tadfield."

"Ouch?" Crowley said.

"Not with us, sorry. Just...all the rules. All the fighting. I was fine before."

"Are you sure? You were always uptight, even before Tadfield."

"I-I was not!"

"Yeah, you were. I think you just never realized it. Always worried about what would happen if you went against the Ineffable Plan. Always worried about Gabriel. Always worried about Her, and Falling, and me. And let's be honest. Tadfield was ungodly stressful, pun intended. So Aziraphale, under all the pressure of everything already going on, and through the stress of the Earth nearly being destroyed and nearly being killed, decides to still go to work, and keeps working until the stress cracks him like an egg. And that's BEFORE everything that's happened since then. Now, I'm aware I'm part of the problem, and I'm sorry, but if we're going to get through this, we need to help you work on your stress, or else this is just going to keep happening."

"What do you do?" Aziraphale asked. "You don't seem stressed at all considering what happened today.

"Oh, I was. I still am. But what happened happened, and the more I worry about it the more it'll hurt me, so I may as well just relax, drink some tea, and curl up with my nice cuddly angel."

"Oh Crowley, what am I going to do?"

"You're going to do your best. And you've got help. Me, Anathema, Tracy, Newton, the Them, hell, I bet even that old witch-hunter would help you if he knew how to. We're all on your side."

Crowley kissed Aziraphale's forehead. "Come here, angel. I promise I won't let you go."


	7. Coping Mechanisms

Crowley drew in a deep breath of air, savoring the smell of the morning smog mixing with his car's interior. 'Nothing quite like a morning drive,' he thought.

He had left Aziraphale both a note and a voicemail, letting him know that he was going for a drive and would be back before lunch. He hoped his angel would be alright without him. They'd both been pretty freaked out yesterday, but at least Crowley had driving as an outlet.

He turned a corner and stopped to let a parade of ducks by, smiling as they went. Picking up speed again, he drove out of London altogether, finding a stretch of countryside he could speed through without worrying about hitting other cars. This was the best part - getting to zoom up and over hills without a care in the world.

Parking on top of a hill and stepping out of the car, he let his wings out, flapping them in the breeze and savoring the cool air on his feathers. He briefly considered doing some flight practice, but figured he'd been out long enough and might as well see how Aziraphale was doing. Popping his back, he climbed back into the Bentley and casually made his way back to the flat.

Aziraphale was still asleep when Crowley got back, so Crowley miracled away the note and the voicemail, slipped off his shirt and jeans, and slid back into bed. The second he got in, Aziraphale reached out, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug the way a child might with a stuffed animal that has slipped away from them in the night. Crowley smiled, kissing Aziraphale on the forehead. His phone buzzed across the room and he miracled it into his hand.

*Marjorie Potts sent a message*

MP: Good morning!

MP: I hope I didn't wake you. I was just tidying up and found some old notes from a meditation class I took back in university and I thought they might help you two.

MP: When would you both have time to do a session? I would bring all needed materials, we just need a place to practice where we won't disturb anyone with loud noises.

AC: I'll have to ask Aziraphale about time when he wakes up, but here should be fine. Nobody lives around here anyway.

MP: Good to hear! Let me know when I should come over!

Crowley set his phone on the nightstand and rolled over, burying his face in Aziraphale's hair. Without even meaning to, he fell asleep.

Fire, everywhere.

He was back in the bookshop, when it was on fire. Hunting, desperately searching for Aziraphale. Screaming his name till his throat went hoarse and it hurt to even swallow. He shook as he realized that the flames were touching him now, burning his skin, and it HURT.

He turned over a bookshelf and saw a hand sticking out from beneath it. He tried to miracle the shelf away but he couldn't. He tried to stop the flames but he couldn't. He pulled as hard as he could and dragged Aziraphale's body out from under the shelf, gasping at how burnt it was. He was too late. But he placed a hand on his angel's shoulder (or what he thought was his shoulder, it was getting harder to see) and shook it.

"Aziraphale!" He cried weakly, tears unable to fall because of the heat, lips chapped and bleeding as the flames drew away every inch of moisture from his body.

"Aziraphale! Wake up!" He cried, over and over again, until the bookshop came crumbling down around him, and all he could do was call out.

"Aziraphale...Aziraphale..."

"Crowley...Crowley!"

Crowley was shaken awake by Aziraphale, still lying next to him in bed. Crowley took a few seconds to register where he was - Aziraphale alive, the bookshop fine, both of them fine.

"Crowley, are you alright?"

Crowley nodded. "Bad dream, s'all. Can I get some water?"

"You'll have to let me go first, dear." Crowley released Aziraphale from the lock tight grip he'd been holding him in, blushing with embarrassment. Aziraphale got up and walked to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked Crowley.

"Wot?" Crowley said drowsily.

"Your dream."

"Nah. S'all old sssssstuff. Nothing to dwell over."

"Dear..."

"I'll be alright! Happens every so often."

"Crowley!?"

Crowley cringed. "I'm FINE! C'mon, let's get breakfast."

"Ah," Aziraphale said, looking away. "Don't worry about me, I'm...not that hungry."

"Aziraphale?!" Crowley mimicked.

Aziraphale sighed. "I mean it! I'm still not feeling well from last night."

Crowley's face fell. "Ah. Are you alright?"

"I'm...not sure? I still feel a bit ill. I think I might lie here a bit longer and see if I feel better."

"Then I'll stay here with you," Crowley offered.

"Ah, er, you don't have to! I'll be alright."

"Are you sure? It feels like there's something you're not telling me. You're not just trying to avoid eating, are you?"

"No!" Aziraphale said, looking to the left.

"I'll make you some toast," Crowley said. "I've heard it's good for sour stomachs. Promise you'll at least eat that?"

Aziraphale nodded reluctantly. Crowley went to the kitchen and Aziraphale lay back down in bed, arms crossed over his stomach. Once Crowley had left the room he started poking and pinching his stomach, wishing he could just miracle it away. He felt gross and was sure he looked that way, too. He rubbed his face and wiggled his toes, trying to take his mind off his body, but by the time Crowley came back with some toast he was buried in the blankets so he couldn't see any of himself.

"Who's the most handsome angel in the world?" Crowley sang.

"Stop," Aziraphale begged.

"Where's my lovely friend? Huh? Where's my cute bastard?"

"Crowley," Aziraphale moaned.

"Eat this and I'll stop," Crowley teased. Aziraphale tried to hide under the blankets.

"Come on, Aziraphale. One piece of toast isn't going to hurt you."

Aziraphale didn't respond. Crowley sat on the bed, still holding the toast.

"Aziraphale. This isn't healthy. If you keep up like this you're only going to hurt yourself."

"That's what I want," Aziraphale said without thinking, surprising both of them.

Crowley set the plate down on the nightstand. "Oh, angel..."

"Don't," Aziraphale said, voice cracking. "Not right now. I know I'm being...stupid. Just leave me alone."

"You don't really mean that?"

Aziraphale hid his face under the blanket. "You don't have to leave. I just...I don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Do you not want to be touched right now?"

"...yes. I think. I don't know."

"Can I hold you? You can keep the blanket on, but you look like you need a hug."

"I...I suppose that's alright?"

"Alright. Let me know if you want me to stop."

Crowley scooted closer and wrapped his arms around where he thought Aziraphale was, rocking his angel back and forth gently. He started humming something, something by Queen, and Aziraphale started to cry.

"Do you need me to stop?" Crowley asked.

"No," Aziraphale sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"You're so good to me."

"You deserve it."

"I don't..."

"You do!"

"I really don't..."

"Aziraphale. You've saved me more times that I can count. You saved the whole world! You went in front of a whole crowd of demons, sat in a tub of holy water, and asked for a rubber bloody duck! Plus, you woke me up from that nightmare this morning."

Aziraphale sniffed. Crowley chuckled.

"C'mon, admit it, dear. You deserve to be held like this. And kissed, if I can find your face and you're alright with it."

Aziraphale wiggled, but Crowley didnt budge (though he did loosen his grip in case he was actually hurting his angel).

"Dear?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale curled up into a ball.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop joking around. Do you want me to let go?"

Aziraphale made a whining noise.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley said, concerned. He turned into a snake and literally slithered underneath the blankets.

"Azzzzzziraphale?" He called. He turned back once he had a good sense of where his angel was.

Aziraphale had gone completely beneath the blankets and was shaking.

"Aziraphale! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Aziraphale grunted, and Crowley miracled the blanket off. Aziraphale's head was between his knees, his arms clamped over his neck, his elbows covering his ears.

"What's wrong? What can I do?"

"I don't know!" Aziraphale cried, choking. "Everything...hurts..."

"Hold still," Crowley said, doing the only thing he could think of. He rested a hand on Aziraphale's forehead and closed his eyes. A second later, so did Aziraphale, his body going still.

"Sleep well, angel," Crowley said. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

Aziraphale awoke on the couch a few hours later.

"Crowley?" He croaked. Crowley was immediately at his side.

"How are you feeling?"

"Bad," Aziraphale admitted. "My head hurts and I feel ill. What happened?"

"I don't know. You were shaking, and you said everything hurt...I'm sorry, I had to miracle you to sleep..."

"You did the right thing. Thank you."

"What can I do for you, dear?" Crowley knelt down in front of Aziraphale.

"Some water would be nice. I should probably also eat something..."

"Anything in mind?"

"Something soft...and warm...maybe some soup?"

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Where did that toast from earlier go?"

"Right here," Crowley replied, pulling the plate out from behind his back like a magician. Aziraphale laughed, taking it.

"One more thing, dear...could you get me a shirt from my closet?"

"Of course. One second."

Crowley got Aziraphale a shirt, helping him put it on. Once Aziraphale was back in the blankets and nibbling toast, Crowley went to the kitchen, but not before handing Aziraphale his DS. "You can play while you wait, if you want."

Aziraphale nodded, ate his somehow-still-warm toast, and booted up Animal Crossing.

"Good evening, Mayor A.Z. Fell! In Eden, its Sunday, August 25, 2019, and the current time is 4:20 p.m. Well then, shall we get started? Wonderful. Let me get you set up. Ok! All set! Have a nice day!"

AC: hey do you still want to come over

AC: I talked to Aziraphale and I think what you were talking about earlier would be worth trying

AC: it's been a rough day

AC: can you come tuesday? Bring tea.

AC: I'd say tomorrow but I want to make sure he isn't going to collapse again before I have anyone over

MP: Sounds perfect! I can't wait.

AC: Thank you so much, Madame.


	8. Self Care Day

"Have you ever thought about growing your hair out?" Crowley asked a few days later.

"Why?" Aziraphale asked in turn, hand absentmindedly running across the short hair he'd had for over 6000 years.

"Dunno, just think you might look good with it," Crowley shrugged.

"I think it looks better on you, dear," Aziraphale admitted. "Your hair was very pretty in Eden."

"Was it? Part of my devilish charm, I suppose."

"Perhaps. I do sometimes wish you'd kept it. I could have learned to...to braid it, or something."

"What?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale laughed. "Just rambling. When is Madame Tracy getting here?"

"She's downstairs," Crowley said, checking his phone. "Says she needs some help carrying things in."

"Ah. We'd better go help," Aziraphale said, standing up quickly. Crowley stepped forward, but Aziraphale held up a hand.

"I'm alright, dear. I'm feeling much better today."

As Aziraphale's vision finished graying out and came back to full capacity, he followed Crowley down the stairs and to the front door of the shop, where Madame Tracy stood holding a large plastic box.

"Good afternoon, boys!" She sang. "Help an old woman carry these up the stairs, would you?"

"You're not that old," Aziraphale joked, and Madame Tracy laughed. The three of them went back to the flat, where under Madame Tracy's guidance, Crowley and Aziraphale moved the couch and coffee table so that they could all sit on the floor. Madame Tracy opened the box and slid it to the center of the group.

"Grab a drum," she said.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other and shrugged before leaning over. Crowley got a hexagonal drum and a mallet with a rainbow-ball tip, while Aziraphale got a pair of bongos. Madame Tracy got a round drum and a black mallet.

"Alright! Thank you both for having me over today. It's been awhile since I've done this but I took very good notes back in the day so we ought to be alright. We're going to be drumming to destress, and we'll do some meditation and breathing exercises as well.

"First, I want each of us to say their name and drum a beat, and then everyone will repeat that beat and their name. I'll go first.

"Ma-dame Tra-cy," she said, hitting her drum four times. She looked at the boys pointedly and they nervously joined in.

"Ma-dame Tra-cy. Ma-dame Tra-cy. Ma-dame Tra-cy."

"Now, one of you go. It can be any beat, don't be shy, just do what feels right."

"Crow-ley," Crowley said, hitting his drum twice.

"Crow-ley, Crow-ley, Crow-ley."

"A-zi-ra-phale," Aziraphale squeaked, hitting his drum five times.

"A-zi-ra-phale, A-zi-ra-phale, A-zi-ra-phale."

"Alright, now rumble!" Madame Tracy said, rapidly beating her drum. They collectively drummed for a few moments, before ending off on a single beat.

"Now, let's do a wave. I know there's only three of us, but we'll make do. I'll hit my drum, and then Crowley will his his, and then Aziraphale his, and we'll go around a few times."

They did so, awkwardly at first, but eventually they picked up speed, eventually stopping once Aziraphale jokingly complained that they were going too fast for him. They rumbled again, and then Madame Tracy told everyone to put their drums down.

"Alright. Now were going to sit tall, backs straight, and focus on your breathing. You can close your eyes or stare at the floor, whichever you prefer. Breathe in, and as you breathe in, remind yourself that it's a good day for you. Even if you don't feel like it's a good day for you, remind yourself that it's a good day. Now, I want you to smile, because just the physical act of smiling releases the chemicals in the brain that allow you to feel good. As you exhale, take in another breath, and remind yourself that you're in the moment. You are here. And this too is a good moment. One more time, breathe in, remind yourself that it's a good day for you, and smile. Exhale, breathe in, and smile. Exhale, breathe in, and remind yourself that you're in a good moment. Open your eyes, and bring your focus back."

She looked at Crowley and Aziraphale. "How was that?"

"A bit odd," Crowley admitted. "Smiling on purpose."

"I agree," said Aziraphale, "but I feel a bit calmer now."

"Good! You can use that technique if you feel stressed. Just the act of breathing out helps your brain to calm down if you're feeling stressed. Now then, one of you, give us a beat."

Crowley gave a three beat rhythm, one that everyone quickly realized was from a Queen song. Still, they kept on for a few minutes, until Madame Tracy got them to rumble again.

"Aziraphale? Do you want to give us a beat?"

"Er," Aziraphale hesitated, before drumming a simple 3/4 rhythm. They did that for a few more minutes, Crowley adding in his own flair, before they rumbled once more.

"Now, Crowley, tell me how your week has been."

"It's, er, been alright. A bit stressful, you know."

"And how does that sound with your drum?"

Crowley considered it for a moment, before drumming a beat that started slow, then sped up, then slowed down again. Aziraphale and Madame Tracy joined in. After a few rounds, Madame Tracy cut them off.

"Alright, so do you want a heartbeat or waves?"

"Er. Heartbeat?"

"Alright. Aziraphale, copy my beat."

She drummed a slow heartbeat, and Aziraphale copied her for a few moments.

"Your turn, Aziraphale. Tell us how your week has been with your drum."

Aziraphale hit his bongos so fast and so hard Crowley thought he might break them. He and Madame Tracy joined in for a few moments.

"Do you want waves or heartbeat?"

"Waves," Aziraphale said, a little out of breath. Madame Tracy showed Crowley how to make slow circles on his drum with his hand, making gentle wave-like noises.

"Alright. Now, set your drums down, and bring your focus to your breathing again. We're doing to do a visualization. I want you to think of a positive phrase or a positive word. It can be a motto, or a mantra, or a phrase from scripture, but something positive. I want you to see that word in your brain. As you do I want you to breathe slowly, steadily, and deeply. And as you breathe, I want you to visualize that word and see it in your favorite color. I want you to see it in a big bold font. And as you do that and breathe, slowly bring your focus back, open your eyes, or focus them again. How do we feel?"

"I feel like that one was harder," Aziraphale said. "I had a hard time choosing a word."

"I got a word, but it was harder to get it to stick," Crowley said.

"Perfectly normal," Madame Tracy said. "Different techniques work differently for different people. One more breathing exercise, and then we'll drum again.

"Close your eyes, and here's what I want you to do: Take one big deep breath in, hold it for a few seconds, and then let it out in one burst of air. We're going to do that ten times."

This one was easier for Aziraphale, though he did realize he didn't like breathing in so much as it made his stomach stick out a bit.

"Alright. Last time we're going to drum today, and then we'll do one last relaxation technique. We're just going to do a slow, steady beat, without rushing or getting louder, we're just going to follow my beat."

They drummed slowly and steadily, and Aziraphale focused on the deep sound of the drumming. He felt the sound waves vibrating his own drum and his clothes, he felt his heart follow the rhythm of the drums, and he lost all contact with the world, just focused on hitting his drum. Crowley, meanwhile, kept trying to speed up, and had to focus on not rushing, but he still enjoyed the simplicity of the drumming.

"Three...two...one!" Madame Tracy said before setting her drum down. "Now, bring your focus to your breathing one last time. Close your eyes.

"I want you to focus on breathing slowly, steadily, and deeply. And as you do so, I want you to visualize your favorite place to be outside. It can be a beach, it can be a park, it can be anywhere. The temperature is just right for you, and you can feel the sun keeping you warm. I want you to visualize the details. Are there any trees here? How many? What texture is the ground?

"As you visualize all this, remember to keep breathing. As you look around this place, remember that you are at peace. This is a safe place for you, and you can come back here whenever you need to. This is a place that makes you feel calm and at peace.

"Bring your attention back to your breathing, and bring your focus back here. Remember that you can return to that place any time you need to be at peace. Open your eyes and return to the present."

"I liked that one," Aziraphale said, smiling. Crowley nodded. "Me too."

"Good! Thank you both again for having me, I hope this helped?"

"Very much so," Aziraphale said.

"Excellent! Now, will you two help me put these drums back in my car?"

* * *

Safely back in the flat, Crowley sat the cardboard box Madame Tracy had left with them on the coffee table.

"I've picked some of these up over the years, but I've never used them. I figured you two would enjoy them more than me," she had said.

"What's in the box?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley opened it.

"Face masks, by the look of it. Bath salts, bath bombs, some scrubs...theres tea in here as well."

"Do you know how to use them?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. "I've tried a few before. The masks are fun. We could try some of this tonight."

"But I don't have a tub," Aziraphale pointed out.

"I do," Crowley replied, "if you're willing to spend the night in my flat."

"It'd be a nice change," Aziraphale admitted. "Let me pack some things."

* * *

The drive over was still nerve-wracking for Aziraphale, but he closed his eyes, laid a hand on Crowley's thigh, and took ten deep breaths, feeling a little better.

Thankfully the drive didn't take too long, and soon he was back on his own two feet, trying to control the shaking in his hands. Crowley carried the cardboard box upstairs to his flat, setting it on his kitchen counter. Aziraphale, meanwhile, plopped himself down on Crowley's couch, working to catch his breath. Crowley handed Aziraphale a glass of water and his angel chugged it.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Just a bit not," Aziraphale replied.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear. I just need a moment to rest."

"Ah. Got it. I'll make some tea and get that bath going. Any requests?"

"Chamomile, if you please."

"Got it. One mug coming up!"

He brewed a couple of mugs of tea and handed one to Aziraphale before walking to the bathroom and starting the tub. He walked back to the living room and pulled the bath bombs out of the box, setting them on the coffee table in front of Aziraphale.

"Pick one," he offered. Aziraphale looked them over and found a nice-looking sparkly blue one. "Is this good?" He asked. Crowley nodded. Crowley then set down a few options for face masks, and Aziraphale picked out one made with Dead Sea clay. Crowley grabbed its pair from the box and put the rest of the supplies away.

"Want to come put the bath bomb in?" He asked Aziraphale, who nodded, setting down his mug of tea. They walked to the bathroom, Crowley's tub miraculously big enough and deep enough for the both of them, and Crowley turned off the tap. He unwrapped the bath bomb and handed it to Aziraphale, who placed it in the water and watched, mesmerized, as it spun, turning the water a cartoonish shade of blue that shimmered in the light.

"We can do masks in the tub," Crowley said, "but we might as well get undressed first so we don't get mask everywhere."

"Ah..." Aziraphale had forgotten that clothes weren't part of bathing. When he showered, he usually either waited for a good day or just tried not to look down.

He turned to Crowley to explain his feelings, but Crowley had already taken his clothes off.

"Oh!" He said, somehow embarrassed. Despite having been around Crowley with his clothes off, he hadn't really...LOOKED at him in awhile. And, as much as he hated that he was even thinking this, he couldn't help but notice...

"What?" Crowley asked. "You didn't think I was ALL skin and bones, did you?" He patted his stomach, just barely squishy. "I've got a normal body, just like you. Nothing wrong with it. Now c'mon, before the water gets cold."

Aziraphale continued to hesitate, so Crowley came up with a better idea. "Close your eyes," he said. Aziraphale obliged, and next time he opened them the bathroom was dark, the bathtub illuminated with candles and containing a thick top layer of bubbles.

"Is that better?" Crowley asked gently. Aziraphale nodded. "Thank you, dear. I'm sorry for being so silly."

"It's alright, angel. I understand. I just wish I could help you see yourself the way I see you, because if you did you'd understand how handsome you are."

Aziraphale blushed and covered his face. "Stop," he said.

"Stop being cute!" Crowley joked.

"I'm not..."

"Yes you are, angel. Every inch of you is adorable. You're like a teddy bear." He sighed. "Me, I'm just a snake. All bones and angles and yellow eyes. It's a wonder I never gave poor Warlock nightmares growing up."

"Stop that," Aziraphale said. "You don't need to put yourself down to make me feel better."

Crowley choked, fumbling for a response, and Aziraphale stood and kissed him on the cheek. "I think you're very lovely. Always have. Now, let me get undressed and let's enjoy our bath, hmm?"

* * *

A few messy flirtations later, they were both in the tub, masks sloppily applied to their faces. Crowley had had the smart idea to get them both glasses of wine, and they were quite enjoying themselves.

"You know," Crowley said. "You've looked almost exactly the same since I first met you. Same hair, same style. You haven't changed much at all."

"Compared to you, my dear? It seems like every decade you change into something new."

"Aside from the 2000s," Crowley protested. "I was responsible for that fashion, but definitely not part of it. But that's not my point. What if She made you the way you are? I know we picked our corporations, but how much of what we picked d'you think we came up with ourselves?"

"You're not talking about free will? Because I would rather not think about that."

"Nah. We've got our own will and stuff. But still, we were made, right? And it makes sense that we'd be made a certain way. Gabriel looks strong and powerful because he's higher up. I'm scrawny and creepy because I'm a snake, the first one from Eden. Beelzebub looks like a swarm of bugs. You, dearest, were made to guard Eden, made to interact with the first humans, made to comfort and protect a child, antichristness aside. Yes, you're lovably soft and cute, but do you really think Warlock would have grown up the same if it had been Gabriel raising him? Do you think Adam would have held Gabriel's hand at Tadfield and stared down Satan?

"Gabriel hates how you look because he thinks he's perfect. And maybe he's good for what he does. But if the two of you swapped places he wouldn't last a day. He'd have humans from here to Scotland quaking in their boots trying to do a simple parlor trick of a miracle, and he wouldn't do half the good that you do. Gabriel performs miracles to fill a quota, you did it to genuinely help people. Gabriel would have fixed Anathema's bike just to get her out of the way, you made her bike even better and helped her get home safely."

Crowley frowned. "I had a point to all this."

He finished his wine glass and filled it up again.

"I guess what I mean is, you look good. I think you're cute. Very handssssssome. A sssssssnack."

"I think you've had too much to drink," Aziraphale chuckled.

"It's like that show Warlock ussssssed to watch. With the vegetablesssss. What was that phrase they kept using?"

"I believe it was, 'God made you special and he loves you very much'."

"Yeh. Like that, but right. God made you ssssssspecial and I love you very much."

Aziraphale laughed, leaning towards Crowley.

"I love you very much, too."

He kissed Crowley on the cheek.

"Oh, bugger! I forgot about the clay!"

* * *

Washed and clean, Aziraphale sat on Crowley's bed, letting his hair air-dry. Crowley had lingered in the bathroom to clean up the candles and clay, but was taking a strangely long amount of time.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called.

"Just a minute!" Crowley yelled back. The door to the bathroom opened, and Crowley came out, hair down to his shoulders like it had been in Eden. Aziraphale gasped.

"What? Do I look alright?" Crowley asked.

"You look gorgeous as ever," Aziraphale breathed. "But you didn't need to go through all that Effort for my sake."

"No Effort at all, dear. Besides, it's nice to let my hair down every so often, pun intended."

He sat down next to Aziraphale on the bed, handing him a bin of hairties.

"Go on. Mess around."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll let you know if you do."

"Alright..." Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley's hair, noting how smooth and soft it was. It smelled like pomegranates, too. Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley's shoulder, humming happily.

"Do you want to try braiding it?"

"I'll give it a go, but I'm not sure..."

"Did you ever get a chance to try bread-making back in Egypt?"

"Challa? Yes, why?"

"Same concept."

"Ah! Thank you."

Aziraphale set to work, carefully braiding Crowley's hair. He started humming something, a tune he'd learned at the same time he'd learned how to braid bread, and Crowley smiled.

"I don't think I can say enough how lovely you are," he said.

"You flatter me too much," Aziraphale blushed. He finished off the braid with a hair tie and leaned back, looking over his work.

"I think I did alright," he said. "Though I don't suppose you can see...?"

"Not very well, no. But I believe you, angel." He yawned, the bones in his back popping as he stretched. "Why don't we turn in? All the soaking has got me sleepy."

"Me too," Aziraphale admitted, yawning himself.

The two of them crawled into bed, spooning with Crowley in the front. Aziraphale wrapped his arm around Crowley's stomach, buried his face in his hair, and wiggled happily.

"Thank you for today, Crowley."

"Thank YOU, angel. I hope tomorrow is just as good. Sleep well, dear."

"Sleep well, lovely." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's neck. Crowley jumped a bit but settled down quickly, laughing at how easy it was to tickle him. Warm and cozy, the two quickly fell asleep, and slept solidly through the night.


	9. Let's Get This Bread

As much as Aziraphale wished it wasn't there at all, his stomach loudly announced its presence on a stormy Friday afternoon.

"Someone sounds hungry," Crowley teased. Aziraphale pouted.

"I'm not."

"Angel, why hide it? You need to eat. No sense holding out on yourself."

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh, come on, dear. How about this. Cook something with me. Huh? A real Friday evening feast, just like we used to watch the humans do. We'll light some candles, bake some bread, we'll have a good time of it."

"I don't know..."

"Well, I'm going to try it, and you can sit here on the couch by yourself if you want. But if you change your mind, then you HAVE to eat whatever I cook. If you don't, you can starve to your heart's content." Crowley stood and walked to the kitchen.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale said. He hoped he hadn't made Crowley upset.

Crowley set up some ingredients he'd miraculously found in Aziraphale's cupboards, pulled up a few recipes on his phone, and set to work. First he started making bread dough, mixing ingredients in a bowl. He started humming to himself, some bebop tune probably. (Crowley wouldn't call Hozier "bebop", but to be fair he wouldn't call anything "bebop".) He kneaded the dough for a bit before allowing it to rest in the bowl.

"Having fun?" Aziraphale asked.

"Immensely," Crowley replied.

Aziraphale turned back towards the tv, which wasn't turned on, not that he really felt like watching anything. He sighed. He needed to be strong. Have willpower. That was-

That was what Gabriel would want him to do.

He groaned, putting his face in his hands. Crowley looked over.

"You all right?"

"Tickety-boo."

"What's wrong?"

"Crowley...is it wrong to want something for yourself even if someone bad wants it for you too?"

"Wot?"

"Let me think...say someone's mother wanted them to learn piano, but their mother was terrible. But then after awhile, that someone realized that they wanted to play piano, but they weren't sure whether to do it because it was what their mother wanted. Does that make any sense?"

"I think I see what you're getting at," Crowley said. "I don't think it's that clear of an issue. Obviously you want what you want, but at the same time, people like that have a big influence on you. Are you thinking about Gabriel again?"

"Why I...yes," Aziraphale shamefully admitted. "I might be."

"What for?"

"It's nothing to worry about, my dear," Aziraphale deflected.

"Don't give me that, Aziraphale. I can't help unless I know what's going on."

"I...erm...you know I don't..." he squirmed.

"Angel?"

"I want to have more...willpower...with things. With myself. To avoid giving into temptations and such. But is that what I want, or is it what's been expected of me for so long that I'm just...desperate to be that? Am I doing things that are bad for me because I want to be perfect?"

"Yes," Crowley said bluntly. Aziraphale made a choking noise.

"Darling, you haven't eaten anything since Sunday, despite my best efforts, you wear the loosest clothes possible as much as you can, you fixate so much on how you look that you're giving yourself a complex! I'll say it as many times as I need to to get you to believe me - this isn't healthy for you. And maybe you want to torture yourself to perfection, but I can't stand doing nothing while you do!"

Aziraphale nodded, closing his eyes. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't give me that either," Crowley said dangerously. "You can't just agree with me to get out of the conversation. I'm not mad at you, Aziraphale, please don't think I am. But I worry about you and it frustrates me that I can't do more to help you. If I knew what I could do to make you snap out of this and stop hurting yourself, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Crowley knelt in front of Aziraphale, arms wrapped around him.

"Please, angel. If there's anything I can do, let me know. Alright? I want to help you get better."

Aziraphale nodded. "I...I want to get better." He sniffled, face suddenly wet. "I'm sorry I've been such a bother."

"Not a bother, angel, not at all. Don't say that about yourself."

Aziraphale leaned forward, hugging Crowley awkwardly. He let out a few sobs.

"I don't even know why I'm crying," he said.

"Probably because you haven't eaten in nearly a week."

"Does that happen to humans?"

"Maybe. Seen it happen before. Want a snack?"

"I suppose..."

Crowley got up and kissed Aziraphale's cheek.

"Come on, angel. Have an apple or something."

"An apple? Really?"

"Hey, I've got some, and they're nice, and it'll be a quick snack while I finish this bread."

"Alright...but only if you let me help you cook."

Crowley grinned.

He helped Aziraphale stand up and they walked to the kitchen, where Crowley removed his bread dough from the bowl and separated it into two smaller pieces.

"Want to help me braid?" He asked. Aziraphale smiled. "Of course, dear." With shakier hands than he wanted, he separated his piece into three strands and began braiding them. Crowley watched and followed his lead.

"It's been a while since we've done this, hasn't it?" Aziraphale reminisced. Crowley shrugged.

"I think that was more your department, angel. I was too busy hardening the hearts of pharaohs to get invited to any family dinners."

"Oh! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though I'm a bit sad to hear that."

"Don't worry about it. Wasn't in my job description at the time. But about Gabriel..."

"Hmm?"

"You're giving Gabriel too much power over you. You shouldn't worry about what he wants. You should do things because you want to do them, or because they make you happy. What he wants, what anyone wants, doesn't matter. Yes, you should still be considerate of people, but you shouldn't need Aristotle to figure out what clothes to wear. Do what makes you happy without thinking about it. As long as it doesn't involve hurting yourself, of course."

"You've got a good point," Aziraphale said.

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

"Aside from yours? No," Aziraphale laughed, gently hip-checking Crowley.

"Was that a genuine flirtation, angel? I must be corrupting you."

"You haven't changed anything that wasn't already there. Now then, do we have a tray for this bread?"

Crowley looked agape at Aziraphale's perfectly braided bread. "You're a natural at this, angel," he said.

"Am I?" Aziraphale asked. He hadn't thought he'd done too exceptionally well.

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and kissed his cheek. "Yep," he said.

"Ah. Well, thank you," Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley looked back at his own bread, which had become more of a lump.

"Loooord, heal this breaaaaaad," he joked. Aziraphale cackled.

"You'll never let me live that down, will you, dear?"

"Nope," Crowley laughed. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, Crowley. May I?"

Aziraphale stood behind Crowley, arms going above his partner's, and he puppeted Crowley's hands. He started humming while he worked, and Crowley smiled, feeling the vibrations against his back.

"You have a very nice voice, dear," he said.

"Oh, thank you," Aziraphale blushed. He hadn't realized he was humming.

"What's the tune?" Crowley asked.

"I don't really remember," Aziraphale admitted. "I've heard it so many times yet I only remember the tune."

"Hum it for me again?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale obliged, resting his head on Crowley's shoulder and gently rocking as he hummed. Crowley finished braiding the bread, placing his and Aziraphale's onto a tray lined with parchment paper. He delicately covered the bread with a towel and set it in the oven, not wanting to dislodge his angel.

"That should rest for about an hour. Do you want to sit down?"

Aziraphale nodded. They walked back to the couch, and Crowley handed his angel an apple. Without a fuss, Aziraphale took a bite.

"Dreadful weather out there," Crowley said, gesturing to the window. It had been raining all day, and was supposed to keep up through next week. A quick glance out the window found the streets almost completely empty, save for a few poor students desperately trying to stay dry as they rushed home.

Suddenly, there was a banging on the door of the shop downstairs. Crowley jumped up, and Aziraphale moved to follow him.

Crowley made it downstairs first, peering through the shop door. On the other side was a girl, positively drenched and looking desperate. Crowley opened the door, fighting suspicion.

"Oh, thank you so much. Can I come in? I promise I won't get the books wet."

Crowley shrugged, noting that miraculously none of the books were close enough to the doorway to get wet.

"Who's down there, dear?" Aziraphale called as he came down the stairs. He poked his head into the shop.

"Oh goodness," he said, looking the girl over. "Do come in! How can we help you?"

"I-I don't need much," she said. "I just need to call for a ride. I just hope my phone is working..."

"What happened to your knees?" Aziraphale asked, pointing out her scraped knees.

"Slipped and fell in a puddle. I'll be alright, please don't worry."

"I think we have a first aid kit," Crowley said, pulling one out from behind the counter.

"Thank you," the girl breathed, taking the kit and kneeling to apply the bandaids.

"Surely we have a chair, too?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley went and got one.

"You don't have to do all this, I'm sure you're busy..."

"Not at all. Is your phone working?"

She checked. "Yeah. Thank god. I dropped it in a puddle earlier and I thought it was toast."

She dialed a number and held the phone to her ear. After a few minutes she straightened up.

"Hey Carol, it's me. Can you come pick me up? I forgot my umbrella and if it rains any harder I'm going to have to swim home. Will you be safe to drive? Okay. Um, yeah. I'm at that bookshop?? The one that's, like, never open?" She paused to give Crowley and Aziraphale an apologetic look. "Yeah. No, it's fine, I'll be okay. The owners seem really nice. Just be careful, okay? Alright. see you in a minute."

She hung up. The three of then stared at each other for a beat.

"I'm going to er. Go put up some books," Crowley said, vanishing into the bookshelves. 'Damn you,' Aziraphale thought.

"Is your husband okay?" The girl asked. Aziraphale jumped.

"Muh-my erm. Husband?"

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume anything, you just seemed like-"

"No no no, it's quite alright dear, I was just caught off guard-"

"I'm so sorry," they both said in unison. Another beat passed, and they both laughed.

"So um. Is he your..."

"Not quite. We're nothing really...official, you see."

"Ah, okay."

There was a loud crash of lightning outside. The girl jumped.

"God. I hate this weather," she said. "I can't wait to go home, no offense. Can't believe we have school in all this."

"At least it's Friday?"

"Yeah. Off to the weekend, where I'll spend two days doing absolutely nothing and then at the last minute remember all the things I was supposed to spend them doing."

She blushed. "Sorry, I shouldn't be venting like this. It's just been kind of a shit week."

"I completely understand," Aziraphale nodded. "It's been, ah, a shit few months for me."

"Oh damn, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Such things are beyond our control."

"...yeah." she looked around the bookshop. "This place is amazing," she said. "I wish I wasn't so soaked, I'd ask to look around. Don't get me wrong, I definitely don't have money to buy anything, but if I had a free afternoon I'd love to spend it just chilling and reading books."

Her phone buzzed. "Oh! That's my girlfriend. She's outside." The girl stood up.

"Thank you so much for letting me stay. Sorry to bother you. Tell your friend I said thank you. Have a good afternoon!"

She ran to the door and opened it, waving to the Volkswagen that sat in the road. With one last glance backwards, she ran to the car, jumping inside. She waved to Aziraphale as they drove off. Aziraphale let out a deep breath of air, looked around the drenched street, and then closed and locked the shop door.

"You can come out now," he called. Crowley reappeared.

"Sorry. I just. Didn't want her to feel overwhelmed."

"I think she was fine," Aziraphale sighed. "I think I would like to go back upstairs, however."

"Sure," Crowley said, putting an arm around his angel's shoulder. He paused, then smiled.

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked.

"Do you remember the first rain in Eden?"

"Of course, my dear."

"This is just like that. Except with my arm instead of a wing. And instead of shielding me from the rain, we got her."

"Do you think that bread is ready to bake yet?"

Crowley blew a raspberry at Aziraphale, who giggled in response. Together they headed back upstairs.

The bread in the oven, Aziraphale sunk into the couch, eyes closed and body limp.

"Don't fall asleep on me, angel," Crowley said gently.

"I can't promise anything," Aziraphale replied.

"I suppose the bread can wait till morning if you're that tired." Crowley crouched on top of Aziraphale on the couch. Aziraphale smiled, then yawned.

"Must be the rain," he said. "Making me...sleepy."

"You should still eat more than an apple."

Aziraphale yawned in response.

"Aziraphale..." Crowley whined.

"I'll eat," Aziraphale said. "I just want to lie here for a bit. If I fall asleep, wake me when the bread is ready."

"Alright," Crowley sighed. He rested his head on Aziraphale's chest and closed his eyes. He had a timer on his phone, anyway. And Aziraphale was warm.

"Are you comfortable?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yessssss," Crowley replied. "You?"

"Of course."

An hour later, the alarm went off. Crowley got up immediately, but Aziraphale was still asleep. Crowley smiled, leaning in close and whispering in his ear.

"Aziraphale..." he hissed, flicking a bit of snake tongue. Aziraphale shrieked and snapped awake, jumping up.

"What was that for?"

"The bread is ready."

"Oh. Still..."

"I'm sorry, angel. Couldn't resist. Help up?"

Aziraphale pouted his way to the kitchen, where Crowley lifted the tray out of the oven with his bare hands.

"Crowley!!"

"I'm fine!" Crowley lied, dropping the tray onto the counter as fast as he could. He miracled away the burns on his hands before Aziraphale could see them.

"We should let that cool for a moment," he said, trying to keep his tone even. "They smell good, though."

He was right. The challah was immaculate. Steam rose from the top of the wooden brown bread as it cooled.

"I think I've got some butter in the fridge," Crowley said. "Probably some wine in the cabinets, too."

"Sounds delightful," Aziraphale said, opening a cabinet door and grabbing a bottle of wine. He found some glasses and poured an initial round before taking his and drinking half of it.

The warm bread and butter was so good that Aziraphale forgot to focus on anything else. He moaned in satisfaction.

"Did we do a good job?" Crowley teased. Aziraphale nodded deeply. Crowley laughed.

"You really are adorable, angel."

* * *

In the middle of the night, Crowley awoke to someone grabbing him tightly. He cracked an eye open to see Aziraphale's face buried in his chest. Crowley put his hand in the back of Aziraphale's head and rubbed his hair gently.

"You okay?" Crowley whispered. Aziraphale shook his head.

"Bad dream?"

Aziraphale nodded.

"Alright. Promise I won't let go."

"Thank you."

Crowley nodded. He wiggled a bit, closed his eyes, and drifted off to the sound of the rain.


	10. Day at the Mall

"I don't think this is going to work, Crowley."

"Aziraphale, please...don't do this..."

"I mean it. Crowley. I'm putting the sweater back."

Aziraphale took off the sweater, which was white with blue stripes on it, and put it back on its hanger.

"I thought it looked nice," Crowley protested, but nonetheless took the sweater back when Aziraphale opened the door of the changing room to hand it to him.

"It's too..." Aziraphale blushed. "Maybe we can try a different color?"

"I've got a green one? It's a size up, though."

"Let me see."

Crowley handed him the sweater and Aziraphale closed the door. He tried the sweater on, tugging it in various ways over his body as he tried to decide whether he liked it or not.

"It's...better," he decided.

"Let me seeee," Crowley nagged. Aziraphale opened the door.

"It looks a little big on you," Crowley said after a moment. Aziraphale blushed again.

"I think it looks nice..."

"I mean, if you like it, that's fine. My turn!"

Crowley let Aziraphale change back into his old sweater and swapped places with him, carrying a pile of shirts into the changing room that looked oddly small to Aziraphale. Within a few minutes, Crowley flung the door open.

He was wearing a black tank top that stopped at the base of his ribcage. Printed on the top was a white cartoon cat with a red bow on one ear.

"Well?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale went red.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked, looking away. Crowley shrugged.

"Let me try another one."

The rest of the shirts were basically the same design - crop tops in various colors or designs. Aziraphale found it hard not to melt into the floor after awhile. Leave it to the demon to be so good at tempting.

"Are you alright?" Crowley asked as he came out in his last shirt, which was hot pink with a rose on it.

"You're very attractive," Aziraphale said bluntly. Crowley laughed.

"Hold on, one more thing." He closed the door again. After a few moments of shuffling, he opened the door again, turning so Aziraphale could see the word "TASTEY" emblazoned on the back of his new pair of athletic shorts. Aziraphale pulled the door closed on him.

"What's the matter, angel?"

"Just give me a moment, won't you? I, ah, have the vapors."

"Angel, if this is too much for you, I can stop."

"No no, don't worry about me. I'll be alright."

Crowley came out with his normal clothes on. "Aziraphale?" He asked, looking concerned. "Tell me if we need to stop."

"Could we take a break? Aziraphale said, not making eye contact. "I do think I am getting a bit overwhelmed..."

Crowley nodded. "Want to get lunch?" He caught the brief grimace that came over Aziraphale's face before he eventually nodded.

They left the store (asking one of the managers to watch their stuff) and walked towards the food court. They'd taken a bit of a trip to this mall, but Crowley had thought that going somewhere new and changing up his style would help Aziraphale feel a bit better. So far things had been good.

"Looks like they've got sushi," Crowley said, nudging Aziraphale, who nodded. His angel sat down at an open table, and Crowley walked over to the sushi place, grabbing what he thought Aziraphale would like and headed back, sitting down across from Aziraphale and handing him a pair of chopsticks. Aziraphale hesitated at first, but eventually gave in, munching quietly.

"D'you ever think about humans? For awhile?" Crowley asked.

"Hmm?" Aziraphale hummed, still chewing his California roll.

"They can't use miracles, they can't come back if they discorporate, they can't fly. But they've invented loads more things than we have. They're still using whiteboards down in Hell. How do they do it?"

Aziraphale swallowed and shrugged. "They don't have to worry as much about following any Plans, so they have more time to come up with things?"

"Maybe. But to think, everything in this room is here because someone sat down and thought about it. Someone figured out how to make bricks, someone figured out how to paint them, someone figured out how to make glass, someone figured out how to use glass to make a ceiling...hell, someone sat down and said, 'hey, what if we put fish on rice?' and look where we are now. Is that any good, by the way?"

"Not really," Aziraphale admitted, crunching some uncooked rice. Crowley frowned, and Aziraphale didn't even pretend to be surprised when the piece of rice softened in his mouth.

"You're too good to me," he moaned. Crowley shrugged.

"Anyway...hm. I had a point there...Humans! I just think they're neat."

"That's another one of your...meems, isn't it? I saw it on your phone the other day."

Crowley pretended to cry. "They learn so quickly..." Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"Ready to go back?" He asked. Crowley nodded.

Back at the store, Aziraphale once again found his head spinning as Crowley asked him to evaluate many different outfits. There were about fifteen minutes where Crowley tried on different dresses, and as he came out in the last of them he looked Aziraphale over.

"You've never worn one of these, have you? You ought to give it a try."

"Crowley, I..."

"You don't have to if you don't want to! Just thought it'd be interesting to see."

Aziraphale thought about it for a moment. "If you go pick something out for me...I'll try it. I don't know if I could find anything good."

"Ye of little faith," Crowley declared, wandering off through the store. Aziraphale mentally prepared himself for the occasion. Crowley returned not too long after with a few selections, which he handed to Aziraphale as he pushed his angel into the changing room.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and slipped his clothes off, turning away from the mirror. He grabbed the first dress, a simple cornflower blue slip-on, and intuited his way into it. He risked a glance in the mirror and instantly regretted it, turning away again and trying on the next one, which was dark green and had more frills. This one still wasn't great, and his resolve wiggled a bit. The red sweater dress he discarded without a second thought, but the flowing white one gave him pause. He tried it and it wasn't terrible? He didn't like the color so much but at least it didn't show him off. The last one was pink and strapless and Aziraphale came very close to trying it before deciding that was probably a bad idea.

"Can I see?" Crowley called. Aziraphale gulped. He put the white dress back on and peeked out the door. Crowley smiled.

"You look gorgeous, darling. Is that the one you liked the most?"

"Maybe a different color?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded.

"Blue? Green? Pink?"

"Pink?"

"Pink it is, angel." He snapped his fingers and the dress Aziraphale was wearing turned a light pink shade.

"Ooh, hold on." Crowley reached over to the pile of clothes and grabbed the green sweater from earlier. "Put this on top?"

Aziraphale obliged and liked the results. "It is a pretty outfit," he said.

"It's got a pretty angel inside of it!"

"Crowley..." Aziraphale blushed.

"Do you like it? Is it comfortable?"

"Yes, I think so. Thank you, Crowley."

Crowley smiled. "Glad to hear it, angel. Now I'll have to find something to match!"

* * *

In the end, they left with two bags, one for Crowley and one for Aziraphale. Crowley had narrowed down his findings and had chosen a select few outfits, while Aziraphale had managed to find a few more sweaters he liked, plus a rather cute pair of reading glasses and some comfortable pants. Crowley had tried talking him into shorts, but "the dress is enough change for me today, dear".

They passed by a pet shop, where Crowley pretended not to be interested in the reptile supplies and Aziraphale pretended not to be amused at Crowley ogling the heat lamps. Then they passed by a bookshop, where Aziraphale pretended it wasn't there and Crowley pretended Aziraphale wasn't pouting. They passed by a few other stores before Crowley stopped in front of one. "You might want to wait out here," he said, handing Aziraphale the bags. He went inside. Aziraphale stood outside the store for a few minutes before getting bored. It was Eden all over again! Maybe a tiny peek wouldn't hurt?

He ventured into the store, noting the be-bop was definitely not his style. There were strange shirts hung up on the wall, including a hawaiian shirt that had the words "here to fuck shit up" written all over it. He passed by a wall of interesting mugs and shot glasses before finding himself in front of a wall of lava lamps. They were pretty, and he lost himself in watching the rise and fall of the heated wax.

"Aziraphale?"

He jumped. Crowley emerged from over his left shoulder.

"How long have you been waiting?" Crowley asked.

"Only a few minutes," Aziraphale responded.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, why?"

Crowley looked incredulous. "Turn around?"

Aziraphale turned around and finally noticed the wall of sex toys and the several racks of sexual gag toys that he'd somehow obliviously walked by on the way in.

"Ah," he said, disassociating. Crowley facepalmed.

"This all from...ah...that lot?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley shook his head.

"Nope. All human inventions."

"Ah. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes, dear. Just some earrings. I can show you when we get outside. Did you see anything you wanted?"

"Ah, there was a shirt..." Aziraphale walked back to the front of the store and grabbed the hawaiian shirt from earlier.

"Really?" Crowley asked.

"You got those shorts," Aziraphale pointed out. Crowley grinned.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath, though he meant it kindly.

* * *

Almost completely out of the mall, they stopped by one last store, which was covered in purple and cheap children's jewelry.

"This was one of mine," Crowley said proudly.

"A children's jewelry store?"

"Yeah. Unprepared employees giving terrible piercing jobs, poorly made jewelry that rubs off on your skin after awhile, kitschy sparkly slime bath bombs...face it, this is Hell on earth!"

"Crowley, that's horrible," Aziraphale said plainly.

"Eh, that's what they paid me for. And by paid, I mean 'didn't discorporate'. Oh look! Cupcake earrings!"

Crowley wandered into the store. "I'll wait outside this time, dear," Aziraphale said, finding a nearby bench to rest for a moment.

Crowley wandered past the rows of Jojo Siwa merch and the astrology themed mood rings, briefly wondering what star sign Aziraphale would choose for himself if he had to, until he came to a small selection of sterling silver earrings. He'd made sure to save himself something good.

"Can I help you find any-...oh."

Crowley turned around. "Amy! How are you these days? Didn't know they'd put you in charge of Claire's."

"Well, someone had to take charge of this place after the demon in charge of it told all of Hell to fuck off."

"I like to think it was a bit classier than that."

"Still left us little guys to pick up the slack. Look at you, being NICE. To an ANGEL. It's disgusting."

"More than the carpet in here? Doubt it."

"You may think you're different, but I know what you are. You're still one of us."

Crowley scoffed. "You just want someone to do your work for you. What I am has nothing to do with it."

Amy scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "What will it take to get you put of my store, freak?"

"A few of these amethyst earrings. How much?"

Amy begrudgingly checked him out.

* * *

"Here's an idea," Crowley said as he joined Aziraphale on the bench. "We swap faces again, go into one of the shops, and find something for each other to wear."

"What?"

"Yeah, we can dress each other up. We don't have to get anything, I just think it'd be interesting. Walking a mile in the other's shoes, and all that. But, ah, without the threat of Heaven and Hell.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he said, sensing Aziraphale's hesitation. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I think I'll try it," Aziraphale said after a bit of a pause. "But if I can't handle it, we have to switch back. Alright?"

"Agreed." Crowley put his hand out. Aziraphale glanced around quickly before taking it. A few seconds and a rather queasy feeling later, he opened his eyes to a slightly darker mall.

"Now then," he heard himself-but-not-himself say. "Where to?"

* * *

Aziraphale had to admit that dressing up Crowley was fun. He looked good in pretty much everything. He'd tried out several outfits, clothes he never thought he would enjoy but took a bit of a liking to. T-Shirts, dresses, leggings with patterns on them, heels, flannels, he ran the gamut of everything he could think of. He even took a moment to try on a crop top or two, matching one with a short skirt.

Crowley had responded well to all of them, smiling happily. The expression sat more easily on Aziraphale's face than it would have on Crowley's. He grinned again as Aziraphale stepped out of the changing room one last time, back in the clothes Crowley had originally been wearing.

"Aziraphale, fashion icon," Crowley said.

"I'm really just trying things," Aziraphale blushed. "I never realized how many different things humans could wear."

"Times keep changing, angel. Ready for my turn?"

"Yes, I think so," Aziraphale said, retrieving the clothes he'd tried on and walking off to hand them over to the changing room attendant. He walked back to the changing room to wait for Crowley.

Crowley started with some sweaters and cargo shorts, then moved onto more modern clothing, like t-shirts and jeans. It was...daunting. Aziraphale was still trying to decide how he felt about all the different outfits. When Crowley stepped out of the changing room, wearing Aziraphale's body, clothed in a long-sleeved crop top and a pair of black skinny jeans, Aziraphape made a choking noise.

It was at first out of shock, at the idea that he could even ever wear anything like what Crowley was wearing. But then as he gazed at his own body from his outside perspective, he realized that he...didn't look that bad. While inside his own body he saw himself as disgusting, from the outside he looked totally fine. He looked fine. He looked...good!

"Angel, are you alright?"

Aziraphale nodded, rubbing his suddenly teary face. "You look good, my dear."

"Yes," Crowley said softly. "You do."

* * *

Aziraphale woke with a start sometime after 2am. He sat up quickly, shuddering as he tried to catch his breath.

"Crowley," he croaked. Crowley rolled over, groggy at first, but sat up when he heard Aziraphale sniffle.

"Angel? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I...I think I just had a bad dream," Aziraphale whispered, wiping his wet face. He suddenly felt Crowley hug him.

"Breathe with me?" The devil asked.

"Of course," the angel answered.

They lay down, calmly taking slow, deep breaths, until Aziraphale calmed down. Crowley kissed his forehead. "Do you want anything? Water, tea, wine?"

"Anything," Aziraphale sighed. "I'll come with you."

What he had wanted to say was, 'please don't leave me alone right now.'

The two walked to Crowley's kitchen, where Crowley whipped a couple of hot toddys with chamomile tea mixed in. Aziraphale drunk willingly, sighing as if all the air in his body was being let out.

"Why are angels so mean, Crowley?"

"Wot?"

"Gabriel, Sandalphon...they never cared about saving Earth. They never cared about collateral. They never cared about Adam, or...or me. They barely cared about the war, they were so sure they were going to win. Nothing mattered as long as they got to boast about their victory. Pride, Crowley! The sins!" He shook his fist. Crowley knew he hadn't put THAT much whiskey in the drink, but it was also very late at night.

"But Heaven was always supposed to be right! Good, always, the only thing we did! That's why the demons fell and we didn't, because we were good! How can angels who can only be good be such bastards? Why did they need to prove themselves so much? Why...why did I need to prove myself at all? If we have the capacity to be bad, how can we be perfect angels at all? How haven't we fallen? ...we should. We should all fall. We don't deserve Heaven. Not when we're all so stupid and mean."

"I get what you're saying. D'you remember what Gabriel said to me before I stepped into that hellfire? I told him I hoped we'd meet again under better circumstances, and he told me to 'shut your stupid mouth and die already,' the arse. Even before that, he had a meeting with Beezlebub of all people, who he almost let slap me! A demon! Hitting an angel! Right in front of the angel who swore to beat us!"

Crowley realized that while he'd been talking, Aziraphale had started turning much paler than he already was.

"You never told me..."

"Course I did. Didn't I?"

"You told me about the fire. That was it."

"Oh. Sorry then. I...I didn't mean to hurt you."

Aziraphale covered his face with a hand. "Care for another drink?" He asked.

"Of course. Wait - why did you go back to working for Heaven after that tried to execute you? You said you told Hell to leave me alone."

"I don't know, I...it just felt like the right thing to do. I thought they were just doing their jobs, that anyone could have been in my shoes, that...that they hadn't WANTED to kill me. I'd just broken all their rules and averted their apocalypse. I just went back into Heaven one day and said I was ready to go back to work and Gabriel...said he'd give me another chance to prove myself. Prove that I was still an angel, I guess. Oh, Crowley...!" He sunk to the floor.

"I'm so...so fucking stupid!" He cried.

"Ange-ngk...Aziraphale..."

"I just walked back in, all cheery, like nothing happened, like they hadn't just tried to kill me, and I LISTENED to GABRIEL. I LET him berate me for WEEKS and...and I believed him! Oh, oh, this is what he meant when he said 'why couldn't you just die when I told you to'!" Hot, angry tears ran down his face. He was shaking. He wanted to hurt something, anything. He just wanted to scream.

"'It's your fault the Earth is still turning, so you of all people should be working hard to keep it that way.' That's what he said to me that day when he summoned me. He...I believed him. I believed I needed to work again. I almost let him talk me out of the bookshop, of all things!"

He shoved his hands into his hair, closing them into fists as though he meant to pull it all out.

"How long have I let him do this? How long would I have, until I collapsed? How long would I have worked until I realized I wasn't supposed to be there anymore? Would he have let me do his work for eternity?"

Crowley rested a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, which to his surprise got him a glare.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Crowley!? Why did you let me go back?! How long until you would have told me what Gabriel said to you?! How long would you have let me believe him?!"

"Aziraphale, I didn't know-"

"You knew he hated me! You knew we were supposed to be left alone! You knew I'd gone back!"

"I didn't, Aziraphale. I didn't know you'd been working again until you told me. I know I acted like I knew but I didn't want to cause a fuss."

"Is this not a fucking fuss to you, Crowley?!" He needed to stop. He needed to stop before he said something he'd regret.

"This is all YOUR fault. If you'd told me what Gabriel said I would never have gone back, I wouldn't have collapsed, NONE of this would have happened! You let me get hurt so you could, what, heal me? Demons can't heal people! All they do is lie, and destroy, and hurt! And I let you hurt me, willingly, with a smile on my face. That's all we're good for! All I do is hurt, and all you do is hurt me!"

Ooooooh fuck. There it was. Oh FUCK. Why did he say that?? Crowley didn't deserve that. Why had he said something so untrue??

He opened his eyes and looked up. "I'm sorry. That's not-"

Crowley was already gone.


	11. The Ineffable Beach Episode

"You have...1...saved message."

"Crowley, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that about you. It's not true at all. I'm sorry I took my anger out on you, you didn't deserve that. Even if I was upset, it still wasn't right of me to say all those horrible things.

I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. After you left, I thought it better to rest, let myself calm down before I tried to speak to you. It...took a few days. I wanted to be levelheaded.

Please call me back. I know I don't deserve to talk to you after what I said, and if you never want to talk to me again I understand. Take all the time you need. I'm sorry. I hope you don't hate me, but if you do...you're probably right."

Crowley sighed, setting down his phone and staring into the open sky above him. He'd been in Santa Monica for a week now, sitting on the beach, drinking martinis, and trying not to feel things. The last bit was a struggle, especially since he kept listening to the voicemail Aziraphale had left him.

Was drinking so much he felt numb a good coping mechanism? Most certainly not. But drinks here were cheap, tasty, and strong. And it wasn't like it could kill him. And he could be here, alone, without anyone from Soho knowing it.

He knew Aziraphale had been wrong. But as he sat, burning in the sand, he asked himself: "why DIDN'T you tell him what Gabriel said sooner?"

The answer was obviously "because I didn't want to hurt him, because I didn't think he needed to know."

"So why did you tell him that night?"

"I was tired and tipsy, and it fit with his point about all those bastard angels. I thought it was a good idea at the time."

"What are you going to do now?"

That question, he couldn't answer.

His phone rang. It had done so a few times since he'd gotten here, but whoever was calling hung up before Crowley could get to the phone. This time, though, he managed to pick up.

"Hullo?"

"Oh! God! Crowley! I wasn't expecting you to pick up."

"Good afternoon t'you too, Aziraaaaphale."

"Afternoon? Crowley, it's nearly midnight! Where are you?"

"Saaaandy beachesssssss. Open sssssky."

"Oh dear, are you drunk? I...I suppose I don't blame you. Are you safe, at least?"

"Snug as a bug on a...drug. Alcohol'ssssss a drug, innit?"

"Crowley, where are you?"

"Ssssssssanta Monica! Havin a blast. Wasting away again in Margaritaville, as the locals say. Yer not gonna-"

"I hope you don't terribly mind if I-"

The call disconnected, and Aziraphale manifested a few feet away from Crowley.

"Yer wearin pyjamas," Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale blushed. He was, indeed, wearing a pair of plaid pyjama pants and a grey, long-sleeved shirt. But Crowley was wearing a speedo.

Crowley snapped his fingers and Aziraphale's clothes changed. All he had on now was a pair of swim trunks with a shark on one leg. Instinctively, Aziraphale crossed his arms over his stomach.

"Sssssssshirt stays off when you apologize to me, amgel. Lemme hear it."

"Oh, yes, well. It was wrong of me to say those horrible things to you that night. I was angry, but that doesn't mean I had a right to take it out on you. I'm sorry I said all of that and I'm sorry I hurt you. If you never want to talk to me again-"

"I'm talking to you right now, arent I?"

"Er...yes, I suppose."

"Then quit the guilt-tripping! I want to talk to you, and I still care about you, so don't make it seem like you're jussssssst a...the thing the early bird gets. I'm not out here because I'm mad at you, Aziraphale. I'm out here because...I'm mad at myself. And I wanted to give you your space."

Aziraphale was surprised. "You're not mad at me?"

Crowley sighed. He lay down in the sand, wacking the sand next to him to get Aziraphale to lay in it. After a moment's hesitation, his angel obliged.

"I didn't tell you what Gabriel said bcause I didn't think you needed to hear it. We were free, on our own side. No need to see them and go through all that again. I didn't know you were gonna go running back up to Heaven, or else I would have warned you not to. I should have told you the truth from the beginning, and I'm sorry I didn't. You deserved to know."

"I forgive you," Aziraphale said without hesitation. "I would likely have done the same thing."

"Guess that makes both of us horrible," Crowley said, sticking his hand in the sand. It was still warm from the sun being on it all day, and he wished he could turn into a snake and slither underneath it.

"I guess it does," Aziraphale said, looking up at the sky. Even after all this time, he still lay on his back in a proper, straight position, like he was lying in a coffin.

"What're you gonna do now?" Crowley asked.

"I'm not sure. What about you?"

"Dunno. That's why I asked you."

They lay in silence for a moment.

"Gabriel said he would kill me if I didn't meet my miracle quota this month," Aziraphale said.

"He said that?"

"I'm paraphrasing. But the deadline is coming up in...about 15 days."

"Someone did the math."

"Anyway, we...I need a plan."

"We. I'm not letting you do this alone."

"Right then. What is our plan?"

"Kick Gabriel's ass, I'm assuming. But how?"

Aziraphale shrugged, sniffling a bit. Crowley looked over to see golden ichor dripping out of Aziraphale's nose.

"Er..."

"It's happened a few times this week," Aziraphale said, tired. "I assume it's stress."

"Is this really more stressful than the end of the world?"

"Sometimes, Crowley, thinking there will be an end gives more comfort than being alive past it. When the world was ending, we had a plan. And we knew what would happen if the plan didn't work. But now...there's no plan. No way out but forward."

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand. "We'll figure it out. Together. Promise."

Aziraphale rolled over and threw himself at Crowley, sobbing into his chest. Crowley petted his hair, humming softly.

"Tempt you to a drink?"

Aziraphale nodded.

* * *

AC: We have 15 days

AC: Bit of a situation here

AC: Shory version is that Gabriel is a rat bastard and were going to kick his ass

AC: *short

AC: We'll need all the help we can get

AC: can someone please talk to the witch finder guy? Got a feeling he can help

MT: On it!

AD: I'll check the book again, see if theres anything new

AC: thank you both so much

* * *

They hadn't gone straight home. Crowley had suggested they take a few days to relax and enjoy the scenery. Plus, Aziraphale had never been to a beach strictly for pleasure before.

Crowley wasn't a big fan of the salt water, preferring the nice warm sand, but he walked up to the edge of the water with Aziraphale, who dipped a toe in.

"It's cold!" He cried. Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale stalled further into the water, pulling Crowley along. They went about waist deep.

"Do you know how to swim?" He asked Crowley.

"You don't swim in the ocean, there's no point."

"What do you do then?"

"Wait for the waves."

As they stood there the tides rolled in, gradually pushing against them more and more. Crowley led them a little farther forward until the waves were almost pushing them over.

"Now what?" Aziraphale asked.

"Jump."

With the next big wave they jumped, the water pulling them up and backwards, weightless. Aziraphale yelped, but quickly found his footing again. They repeated the process a few more times until Aziraphale was laughing delightedly. Both of them lost their footing several times, slipping under the water before spluttering back to the surface, but it was never enough to make either of them want to leave. After awhile they tired out and made their way back to the edge of the water. They stood for a bit, letting the waves wash the sand out from under their feet, completely silent for a moment.

"There's tons of beaches out there I've never touched," Aziraphale said softly. "Countries and continents I've not seen in centuries. To think it all could have gone away and I would never have known what I was missing.

"After all we went through, we're still in the same old bookshop in the same city in the same country. Nothing's changed. Maybe, once this whole Gabriel business is over, we could...see the world? Like erm...Rick Steeves?"

"Didn't he only go to Europe?"

"I thought you said you didn't watch PBS?"

"Nevermind! Anyway, travel?"

"Yes. I think it would be nice. Oh, we could go see Alpha Centauri!"

"You remember that?"

"Of course, dear. You never went, remember? You said something came up."

"Oh, yeah..."

"We should go sometime!"

"...yeah. Sounds good."

"Crowley, are you alright?"

"...no." Crowley sat down in the sand. Aziraphale joined him.

"I didn't go to Alpha Centauri because I was supposed to go with you, and I thought...I thought you'd died in that bookshop."

"Oh. Oh..."

"Ssssss'nothing to worry about. It's the past. Just didn't want to keep anything else from you."

Aziraphale hugged Crowley, kissing his salty forehead. "I hope I haven't been insensitive, dear."

"Not at all...Aziraphale."

Despite himself, he shivered.

"Are you alright?"

"Bit cold. Sssssssssnake thing."

Aziraphale hugged him a bit tighter. "Let's dry off then?"

Crowley nodded.

* * *

Back in the Airbnb Crowley had been staying in, Crowley threw himself onto the bed, sighing as he sunk into the mattress.

"Goofball," Aziraphale teased. He'd never used that word before, but he liked it.

"One and only...darling?"

Aziraphale chuckled, oblivious to Crowley's plight. He sat neatly on the bed next to Crowley, taking a moment to focus on his breathing. Crowley looked up suspiciously, a scheme in his eyes.

"Grab me the remote, will you...love?"

"Of course," Aziraphale said, fetching the remote and handing it over.

"Thank you...dearest?"

"Of course, Crowley." There was a pause, and then Aziraphale turned around to a red-faced Crowley. "Aren't you going to turn it on?"

"Of course...baby?" He flicked it on to a random channel, glad Aziraphale didn't notice his grimace.

"Have you thought about dinner, sugar plum?" He asked. This was a mistake. He was hating this. His natural inclination to evil was fighting him.

"No, but I suppose we could order something. What do people usually eat around here?"

"I'll look it up." He conjured up his phone.

AC: anathema I need your help

AD: oh god what? Is he okay?

AC: I need something else to call Aziraphale besides angel

AD: r u kidding me rn

AD: its scrabble night

AC: please. I'm begging. Look at me beg. Screenshot it if you want.

AD: Have you tried "dear"?

AC: darling, love, dearest, baby, sugar plum

AD: wow

AD: none worked, huh?

AC: none of them feel right

AC: I've been calling him angel for 6000 years

AC: but it just feels wrong to now

AD: hmm

AD: talk to him about it?

AC: I cant just ASK him

AC: he'll be all "oh it doesn't matter dear, you can call me anything you like" and that's no help at all

AD: drama queen

AC: one and only

AD: pff

AD: why dont you sleep on it or smthn

AC: I guess.

AC: What do people eat in Santa Monica

AD: crowley what the actual fuck


	12. At His Limit

The morning after he texted Anathema, Crowley woke up to an empty bed.

"'Ziraphale?" He mumbled, blinking groggily. He reached over, fumbling for a partner that wasn't there, before sitting up, groaning at the tiredness in his bones and the brightness of the sun.

"Morning, dear," Aziraphale called. Crowley rubbed his eyes. Aziraphale was in front of their room's television, following along with what looked like a yoga instruction class.

"I found this video lying around and thought I would try it out. I didn't want to wake you. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeh," Crowley lied. "You?"

"I woke up a bit early," Aziraphale admitted, "but other than that, yes."

"Good. Shall we go get breakfast, then?"

Getting dressed took Crowley a bit longer than he would have liked. He felt extra tired and sore, and though he knew why, he hoped it wasn't the case. Aziraphale didn't seem to mind the extra wait, though. He seemed to understand something was up, not that Crowley was giving him any hints.

They spent the whole day exploring California, and Aziraphale had a blast. Things here were fancy, but not Ritz fancy. They had an earthier quality he could appreciate. Aziraphale, at his own insistence ("I need the practice, dear,"), had conjured himself some clothes, including a polo shirt and shorts that gave him a Beach Dad look. Crowley, on the other hand, let his hair grow out and pulled it back, indulging in the "Whole Foods grocer" vibe he gave off in doing so. He wore his sunglasses extra dark in an attempt to stave off the gnawing headache that was setting in. He'd miracled the Bentley here (or rather, he'd assumed the car would be outside and it was), and with all the traffic was able to drive slowly enough for Aziraphale's comfort.

He kept up with Aziraphale rather well, even being...groan...social. He even accompanied him back into the ocean towards the end of the day, despite his body's objection to the cold. After a decently long dinner where he tried to convince his body food was worth holding onto, he threw himself into bed, snoring before Aziraphale could join him.

The next day he could feel how internally hot he was. He scooted away from Aziraphale once he woke, as though he were afraid to burn his angel. His body chose that moment to decide that no, in fact, food WASN'T worth holding onto, and he retreated to the bathroom, leaving the lights off for his own sake. After that he took an ice cold shower that hurt like hell, and nestled himself back into bed just as Aziraphale woke up.

"Morning, dear," Aziraphale said warmly. "Sleep well?"

"Mm," Crowley nodded, eyes still closed.

"I noticed they had an ice skating rink on our way back yesterday," Aziraphale said. "Should we try it out?"

Crowley shrugged. "No!" His body screamed.

"Sure," his traitorous mouth said. "If you think it'll be fun."

* * *

He wore his warmest clothes and his thickest socks. He was wider than Aziraphale with the puffy coat he wore. And yet he was still cold and shivering. He sat at one of the ice drink's dinky plastic tables and sipped his third cup of cocoa while he waited for Aziraphale to finish getting his skates on.

"This looks fun!" Aziraphale chattered, nose a little red from the cold. Crowley nodded.

"Ready to go, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, standing up and holding out a hand to Crowley, who accepted it and wobbled to his feet on his own pair of skates, miracling his cocoa away. Together they walked down to the rink, gingerly stepping onto the ice.

"Have you ever done this before?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head. "I was into roller skates for awhile though."

"We should do that, too! I'm sure there are places by the beach that rent them like you see in movies."

"Maybe. Suppose we should hang on the wall for a bit first?"

Aziraphale, the bastard, picked up skating within minutes. He figured it couldn't be so hard, and for him it wasn't. Crowley, on the other hand, clung to the wall like a lifeline, still managing to fall several times.

'I shouldn't be this bad at this,' he thought. 'Should be a breeze. If I wasn't feeling like such shit I could do it.'

Aziraphale glided over, looking concerned. "Dear? Are you alright?"

"Smashing," Crowley said, swallowing.

Aziraphale put his hand out. "Let me help you."

Crowley shook his head. "I'll just pull you down with me."

"I promise you won't. Please?"

Crowley sighed and took his angel's hand, letting himself glide around the ring. To his surprise, he didn't immediately fall over.

"Your hand is freezing, dear! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just cold in here. I'm fine." They skated around for awhile, and Crowley found himself actually enjoying the experience. Sure, he was cold and tired and getting a sense of vertigo, but at least he was holding Aziraphale's hand.

Suddenly, a small child skated in front of them, and in the chaos of Aziraphale making sure the child was out of the way Crowley managed to fall over again. His head spun as Aziraphale helped him up and off the ice, and he limped to a table and rested his head in his arms.

"Crowley. What's wrong?"

"Just cold, 'sall. Bit tired, too," he finally admitted.

"Do you need anything? Should we go?"

"I don't want to drag you out if you're having fun."

"Oh Crowley..." Aziraphale sat next to Crowley, wrapping his arms around him. "I can't have fun if you're miserable. Let's go outside?"

They made it back to the car, where Crowley kept the big coat on despite the heat of the outside.

"My dear, you should take that off, you'll overheat."

"I'll be fine. Still cold." He slumped against the steering wheel, taking slow, deep breaths.

"Crowley, are you sure you're feeling alright? You look dreadful."

"...I could use a nap."

Aziraphale nodded, looking into the back seat of the Bentley, which surely should be big enough for both of them.

"Come lie down in the back," he said, getting out of the passenger's seat and sitting on one end of the back seat, offering his legs up as a pillow. Crowley begrudgingly accepted, climbing over and contorting himself so he fit comfortably. It was more comfortable than he thought it would be, and combined with the warmth of being outside and the warmth of Aziraphale he passed out rather quickly.

"Comfy?" Aziraphale asked, getting only a snore in response.

* * *

Aziraphale had drifted off, head leaning against the window of the Bentley, when he felt Crowley jolt in his lap. He opened an eye and looked down, snapping awake as he felt Crowley begin to convulse.

"Crowley?" He asked, brow furrowing. He brushed Crowley's hair out of his face. "Crowley, can you hear me?"

No response, but he could tell Crowley was trying to say something.

"Crowley, what's wrong?"

"H...hot..."

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the big coat and warm clothes vanished, leaving Crowley in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Ignoring the twisting feeling in his stomach he miracled a cold water bottle into his hand. Crowley latched onto it, almost inhaling the water, choking and spluttering as he drained the bottle.

"Crowley, what's wrong? Can you talk to me? Are you alright?"

"M'fine," Crowley coughed, sitting up and facing away from Aziraphale. "M'alright."

"What?!" Aziraphale cried, incredulous. "You most certainly are NOT, Crowley."

"Just gimmie a minute, angel," he wheezed. "Shit, sorry."

"Huh?"

Crowley rubbed his face, taking a few deep breaths to calm his body down. Aziraphale didn't need to be worrying like this.

"I'm okay, Aziraphale. Really. Promise."

"Crowley. I'm not stupid. I know you're not alright. Tell me what's going on."

"Just overheated a little, it's alright."

There was a long silence. Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, who was staring at the floor."

"Aziraphale?"

Another pause. Aziraphale took a deep breath, then sighed, turning a sharp gaze onto Crowley.

"Crowley, you've been sick since the day after we got here. I could tell. I didn't say anything because I trusted you would let me know if you needed help. I understand if you're trying to keep me from worrying about you, but this is NOT the way to go about it. This is worrying me and I do not appreciate it. Stop trying to protect me, stop assuming I don't pay enough attention to you to notice when things aren't right, and talk to me like someone who has been on this earth for 6000 years. You are sick. You haven't slept well. You had a nightmare. Your nose is bleeding. What. Is. Going. On?"

Crowley gulped. The truth hurt, and so did the gulping, but Aziraphale was right.

"I'm not great at keeping a stable body temperature. It's a snake thing. I try not to go anywhere where I know I'll have a hard time staying warm or cool. I started feeling bad after we went into the water the other day, but I didn't want to say anything because I knew you were under a lot of stress and I...I didn't think keeping quiet would make it worse. I haven't been feeling well since then and...and to be honest, I didn't want to go skating. I'd probably be terrible at it even if it wasn't so cold. But I wanted to have fun with you. I got too cold so I got tired, and I left the coat on because I was still cold. I didn't expect to sleep as long as I did, I really do think I just overheated. Dunning why my nose is bleeding but I...I feel like utter shit and I'd really like to go take a shower and lay down, if I'm being really honest."

He lay back against the back seat, sighing.

"I'm sorry, Aziraphale. I know I shouldn't be hiding things from you. I'm just...so used to working out my own problems by myself. I don't want you to feel like you have to help me. It's embarrassing for me to not be able to handle my own problems."

There was a moment of silence.

"Do you think its embarrassing for ME to 'not be able to handle my own problems'?" Aziraphale asked.

"No! I hope you don't feel that way. You've been through a lot and you shouldn't have to go through it alone. I'm glad that I can be here for you and help you work through things."

"Do you feel like you HAVE to help me?"

"Nooot really? I feel like I have to help you because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't, but you're not forcing me to take care of you at all or guilting me or anything. Its complicated."

"Crowley, dear. Why do you hold yourself to such a higher standard than me?"

Crowley didn't respond. He went on a small emotional face journey, however.

"Well. Shit," he finally said. "I'm going to need to think about that for a bit."

* * *

They wound up going back to the Airbnb so Crowley could shower. Aziraphale hadn't been sure about letting him drive but they'd gotten back safely and the burning sensation in his stomach was subsiding. He sat on the bed with an old book he had found, reading about a witch's buttons, until Crowley came out of the shower.

He didn't bother to miracle himself into looking nice. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles underneath. His skin was paler than usual and his face was red and blotchy. His nose was especially red and stuffy, and he sniffled as he climbed into bed next to Aziraphale, resting his head on his angel's chest.

"How are you feeling?" He asked Aziraphale.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. Just b'cause I'm feeling like shit doesn't mean I cant ask how you're feeling."

"That's fair. Ah...well. I'll admit the drive back had me a bit nervous. And performing so many miracles today has made me feel a bit ill. And of course I'm worried about you, dear. But other than that, I'm alright. Breathing just fine. What about you?"

"I'm a little better. Bit of a headache. Ready to nap."

Aziraphale nodded, moving to get up, but Crowley stopped him.

"I was just going to move us under the blanket and get the lights," Aziraphale said.

"Don't bother. I'm comfy enough here. Tired enough to just fall asleep now, too."

"Alright then, dear."

"...dear."

"Hmm?"

"I've called you 'angel' for 6000 years. After the last month it doesn't feel right, so I've been trying to think of something new to call you."

"Crowley, it doesn't-"

"I know, but it matters to me! I've tried darling, love, dearest, baby, sugar plum...maybe I'm trying too hard?"

Aziraphale chuckled.

"I think you're moving too fast, darling. You don't need to find a solution overnight. We've got years ahead of us, that's plenty of time for you to experiment with pet names. In the meantime, I promise, I won't be upset if you call me 'angel'."

Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Aziraphale. I...that really...just takes a weight off me."

Aziraphale nodded, leaning over to kiss Crowley on the forehead. Crowley smiled sleepily, yawning and stretching a bit before wiggling so he was curled up comfortably.

"Tell me about the book you're reading?"

"Well, right now these two girls have taken apples from a witch's house and have eaten them, and they've turned invisible..."

* * *

((AN: Hoo it's been awhile!! Current circumstances are oddly making it hard to write a hurt-comfort fic. Hopefully this and the next chapter aren't complete garbage.

Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the book mentioned at the end. It's a super old one I used to read as a kid until it literally fell apart, so I can imagine Aziraphale liking it.

Next chapter will be the last of the beach arc and I'm ending it off with a bang!))


	13. A Night Under The Stars

What seemed like the morning after Aziraphale read to him, Crowley woke up to an empty bed.

He pawed at the sheets, rubbing his eyes with a spare hand.

"'Zira...?"

He sat up, bleary-eyed, thankful that the curtains were already closed so the room wasn't too bright. The sheets under him felt incredibly soft. The room was neither too cold nor too hot, but was just that right touch of warm to be comfortable, and it smelled like lavender and hot breakfast. He could hear someone cooking something in the kitchen, and he could barely make out a soft muttering noise that he assumed was Aziraphale talking to himself while he cooked.

Crowley laid back down, closing his eyes and resting a bit longer. He allowed himself to shed his human form and slither on top of the pillow, fully relaxed.

A few minutes later he felt Aziraphale lay down next to him, and he felt Aziraphale's fingers run across his scales. He wiggled, poking his tongue out to soak up Aziraphale's scent.

"Glad to see you comfortable, dearest. How'd you sleep?"

"Like an egg," Crowley mumbled, still a bit sleepy. "You?"

"Much the same. I made breakfast, if you feel like getting up. Coffee, too."

"Mm, tempting. Dunno if I do feel like getting up, though."

"Ah. Well-"

Crowley slithered up onto Aziraphale's shoulders and hung loosely around them. "Much better. Giddy-up?"

"Yee-haw," Aziraphale giggled, standing up and carrying Crowley to the kitchen. He sat his snakenificant other down in a chair and got him a plate of english muffins and scrambled eggs, sitting down across from Crowley as he shrugged back into limbedness.

"Looks good, Aziraphale. Thank you."

"Of course, dear. Least I could do."

Crowley dug in, but after a few bites noticed Aziraphale staring at him.

"Everything alright?"

Aziraphale jolted, blushing. "O-ah, y-yes! Tickety-boo!" He took a few bites of food to prove this. Crowley shrugged and went back to his breakfast.

"Anything you want to do today, dear?" Crowley asked.

"Ah, yes, actually. I was hoping you could help me run some errands."

"Errands? We're on vacation."

"Yes, but I...I want to do something special tonight, so I need to pick up a few things."

"Alrighty then. Sounds fun, I'm in. Let me know when you wanna head out."

* * *

They went to a few places, but Aziraphale requested Crowley stay in the car while he shopped, which was a little confusing. Crowley put up with it, more than interested to see how things would play out.

"Last stop," Aziraphale said, climbing back into the car one last time. "The beach!"

"The beach?"

"Yes! Trust me, dear, this is the best part."

They pulled up just as the sun was setting. Aziraphale grinned, hopping out of the Bentley and running to the trunk, getting his spoils, now miracled into a picnic basket. He walked around to the driver's side and opened it for Crowley, who stepped out, a little confused. He took Aziraphale's hand as they walked down to the beach, stopping at the edge of the water.

"Aziraphale?"

"Keep hold of my hand, Crowley." Aziraphale stepped forward, and his foot touched the surface of the water as if it were solid. Crowley, without hesitation, followed him, walking across the ocean as if it were glass.

"Where are we going?" Crowley asked.

"Not far," Aziraphale replied. "How are you feeling?"

"It's a bit windy," Crowley said, and the whistling winds of the ocean softened to a gentle breeze.

"Been practicing?"

"For this, yes. While you slept, I decided I wanted to do something special for you and I figured flexing my celestial muscles wouldn't hurt."

"Are you sure? You're alright?"

Aziraphale hesitated. "It was a bit scary at first, I'll admit. I'm still not..." he sighed, stopping to shake some water off his shoes.

"I'd rather not think about it, lest we sink. But I'd move mountains for you, darling. Within reason, of course."

"Walking on water is 'within reason', eh?"

"I thought it was cool," Aziraphale huffed.

"Hey, I'm all for you showing off. This, what we're doing right now, is amazing. Just don't push yourself too hard for my sake, alright? I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to please me, or anybody else."

"I appreciate the concern, dear. I promise I'm pacing myself. Anyway, here's our stop!"

They came upon an island, just big enough for a picnic blanket with some wiggle room. Aziraphale stepped onto the sand and Crowley followed. Aziraphale pulled a picnic blanket out of his basket and spread it on the ground, taking a seat and motioning for Crowley to join him.

"Do you think I'm being too grandiose in all of this, dear? This all seemed like a good idea in my head and now I worry it's just tacky."

"It's a lot, but I think it's impressive. And romantic."

The sun was almost done setting, the sky a glow of orange, pink, and blue hues. Crowley grinned as he looked at them all, stretching out and around the world.

"It's a great view," he said.

"Indeed," Aziraphale replied. "But the part I want you to see comes after this. For now, why don't we have something to eat?"

He opened the picnic basket and pulled out two plastic containers of pasta, miraculously still warm. Next came a bottle of wine and some wine glasses. Crowley set about pouring wine while Aziraphale dug out the silverware.

"Terrifically romantic," Crowley repeated. "Watching the sunset and the waves, eating pasta and drinking wine under the stars...how long did you spend planning all this?"

Aziraphale grinned. "You were asleep for a few days, so I had time to spare. Gave me time to shake some of the rust off so I could do all of this. I know what you're about to say, but this is just as much for me as it is for you. If I'm going to confront Gabriel, like it or not, I need to get used to doing miracles again."

"How's that been?"

"To be completely honest...it was terrible at first. But I took lots of breaks, and kept reminding myself that I was doing this to get better, to get stronger, and that helped. Physically, I was just rusty. Mentally though, I've had to be very careful. Like I said earlier, it's still scary, I'm still working through some things, but I...I wanted to do this for you."

"If you'd like, I can spot you next time you want to practice. Maybe that'll make it less scary?"

Aziraphale looked up from his food, smiling and blushing a bit. "Maybe. I'd love the help, truly."

"Of course. Maybe you can show me some new tricks, like walking on water."

Aziraphale laughed. Crowley grinned, sliding off his sunglasses and placing them on the ground next to him. It was getting dark enough that he didn't need them anymore, and it wasn't like anyone was going to see them out here.

The sun was fully gone now, only a lingering glow remaining. Crowley leaned back, looking up at the emerging stars and sighing happily. "You picked a good spot. We'll be able to see a lot more out here without all the light pollution."

"My thoughts exactly, dear. That's what I meant by 'the part I wanted you to see', after all."

"Is that the only reason you brought me out here?"

Aziraphale hesitated. "No," he finally said.

"Crowley, I'd like to ask you something, something very important, and I need you to answer me honestly."

"Go on then," Crowley said, a little concerned. Azirphale looked down at his wringing hands, took a deep breath, and began speaking, turning to gaze into Crowley's eyes.

"Anthony J. Crowley. I've known you since Eden, and not a single moment I've spent with you has been one I've regretted, even when we were fighting. You've b-been there for me when no one else in Heaven was, and I don't know who I'd rather be there for for the rest of my life. You've shown me so many things, Crowley, and if it weren't for you, none of this would be here. I know I certainly wouldn't."

Crowley fought the uncomfortable chill that came with being complimented so much. Instead, he blushed, wanting to look at the water but unable to tear himself away from the bright stars that gazed so lovingly upon him now.

"Crowley, we're free now. No apocalypse, no antichrist, no jobs, no bosses. We're free to be on our own side, to do whatever we'd like, to be whatever we'd like, to go out and see the world without having to justify a thing. I want to see the world with you, Crowley, and once we've done that I want to see more. Mars, Neptune, Alpha Centauri, wherever we'd like. But before we do that, I have to ask something of you."

He reached into the picnic basket, pulling out a small box. He turned back to Crowley, tears in his eyes.

"Crowley, would you...grant me the priviledge of..agreeing to marry me?"

He opened the box, revealing a silver ring embedded with several rubies.

Crowley smiled softly. He didn't say anything. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"C-Crowley?"

Crowley wavered a little bit, trying to keep it together. His bottom lip began to tremble. And then he burst into tears, throwing himself at Aziraphale. He grabbed his angel's face and kissed him, eventually pulling away and grabbing Aziraphale by the shoulders.

"Aziraphale, you...you ridiculous worrywart! Were you worried I would say no? Is that why you went to all this trouble?"

"I...Crowle-"

"Of course I'll bloody marry you!" Crowley howled. "Heaven above and Hell below, you make me the happiest sssssssnake on this planet! I'd go to the ends of the Earth and beyond for you. Don't ever think I wouldn't want that for a minute!"

"I'm sorry, I just got myself worked up, and I thought if I put on a big show I could impress you!" Now Aziraphale was sobbing.

"You've impresssssed me since day one, you sssssod! I just worked hard to hide it sssso we wouldn't get in trouble!"

"You don't have to hold back now, dear."

"I know, I'm still not used to it yet, I'm sorry..."

They cried over each other for a few more minutes, and eventually Aziraphale slipped the ring onto Crowley's finger.

"I should tell you now, dear. The ring is forged from celestial metal. It shouldn't hurt you, but if something happens...well, with everything going on...and I know you like to have plans..."

Crowley's eyebrows rose. "That's very smart of you, Aziraphale. Thanks for letting me know."

"I just didn't want you to hear about it suddenly and wonder if I only proposed to you to have a weapon handy."

"I'd never suspect anything of the sort. Besides, you've still got that sword."

"Ah, yes."

Crowley looked over at the picnic basket. "So where's your ring?"

"Huh?"

"Aziraphale, don't tell me you didn't get yourself a ring."

"I didn't think that was a thing people did?"

"And we're people?" Crowley smirked. He reached into his pocket. "I didn't plan anything, but I've had this on me for a bit." He wasn't completely lying. Aziraphale didnt need to know that the ring had been hidden in his apartment since Armageddon.

"It's no special angel metal, but I made it with something called 'thunderbolt iron'. It comes from the stars, like you." He pulled out a plain-looking gold wedding band. "Figured out how to gold-plate it, too. Thought it'd fit your aesthetic. It feels a little silly now, though."

"Don't say that, darling. It's beautiful and I love it and I'm going to start crying again." And he did.

Crowley held his crying fiance, slipping the ring onto his finger. He gazed up at the sky above them, finally dark and full of stars.

"The stars are so beautiful out here," Crowley said, meaning it. He'd not gotten to see something like this in awhile.

"I still remember the names," he whispered. "Not all of them. There's been loads of new stars since I Fell. But I remember the ones I made.

"Someday, Aziraphale, I want to tell you about all of them. I want to show them to you. Show you how I made them, what names I gave them. To be able to see them up there, bright and warm as the day I breathed them out forever ago...it really is the perfect time to propose. Thank you for giving me this moment."

"Thank you for enjoying it," Aziraphale said.

They lay there for a while longer, watching the stars go by, holding and kissing each other, until eventually Aziraphale yawned.

"We should head back," he said. "I can't hold this island here forever."

They packed the picnic basket and stood up, and this time Crowley led Aziraphale out onto the water, their island refuge returning to the seafloor behind them. Once they were back on solid shore, Crowley felt Aziraphale stumble a bit behind him.

"You alright?"

"I may have overtaxed myself a bit," Aziraphale admitted with a chuckle. He took a few deep breaths, hands on his knees. Crowley took the picnic basket and wrapped an arm around Aziraphale, supporting his weight. "Sounds like a good time to go to bed, then."

Aziraphale fell asleep on the way back to the Airbnb, his hand gently resting on Crowley's thigh. When he woke up the next morning, sunlight streaming through the curtains, he heard Crowley in the kitchen, reheating yesterday's leftovers. He looked down at the ring on his hand, and then pressed his hand against his chest, tears welling up again.

"Thank you," he whispered to No-one In Particular. "Thank you for letting me have this."


	14. The Stakes Are Raised, The Rice, Cooked

A day and a half after the proposal, Crowley and Aziraphale returned to Soho. After a nice afternoon to rest up and a long, hard sleep, they invited Anathema and Madame Tracy over for tea the next day. They shared a nice lunch of sandwiches and being fawned over, and then Aziraphale and Crowley went to the park for some fresh air.

They walked in the park for awhile, mostly silent, but eventually they found their usual bench and took a break.

"How long do we have?" Crowley asked.

"Eight days," Aziraphale answered.

Crowley nodded glumly.

"What do we do?"

"I suppose we prepare we best we can."

* * *

"Aziraphale. Wake up."

"Hmmh?"

"Do you smell that?"

Aziraphale breathed in, then shot awake. "The books!"

The two raced downstairs to see the bookshop ablaze, rolling fires taking over the shelves of books.

Aziraphale immediately set about trying to miracle away the flames, but something was off. This wasn't a natural fire.

He looked over to Crowley, who had frozen. "Help!" He called. Crowley reached over and grabbed Aziraphale's hand.

"Check the closet," Aziraphale yelled. "There should be something there."

Crowley nodded, running off. He found the closet and ripped the door open, grabbing a fire extinguisher from inside. He fiddled with it frantically before turning it on the flames, which did nothing.

"It's not working!" He cried. Aziraphale swore.

Crowley ran back to the front of the shop, grabbing for Aziraphale as he coughed on smoke.

"We need to get out of here!"

"But the books!"

"There's nothing we can do, angel! We need to go before the whole bloody shop burns down!"

Aziraphale said nothing, but he nodded.

* * *

For the second time in Crowley's life, he stood outside A.Z. Fell and Co. Bookshop and watched it burn to a crisp.

He only handled it marginally better this time, and it all had to do with Aziraphale.

He clutched his fiance for dear life, turning his head away. He didn't want to feel the flames again. Aziraphale didn't understand because Crowley had never told him anything about the fire, which Crowley supposed was his own damned fault.

The fire department arrived after awhile and was able to stop the burning eventually. Aziraphale and Crowley gave statements that would miraculously become anonymous, and then went back to Crowley's apartment.

* * *

The rest of the day was a bust. Crowley had gone straight to his room and locked the door, saying he was fine and just needed to rest. Aziraphale wanted to push him, wanted to demand that he be there for him, but decided to keep the peace.

Crowley sunk into the bed, feeling his chest pounding. He buried himself under the blankets. He couldn't breathe and the room was starting to spin, but he knew if he just took a few minutes to let the panic run its course he would be okay. He let his consciousness sink into the bed as he curled up into a ball, head in his hands as his eyes started to water.

Ten minutes later Crowley ran back into the living room and threw himself onto Aziraphale, sobbing and holding him tightly. Aziraphale hugged him back just as tightly, taking Crowley into his lap and letting his fiance curl up against his chest.

"It's going to be alright, my dear," Aziraphale hummed. "We're safe."

They sat like that for hours, Aziraphale gently rocking Crowley back and forth.

"I just needed to make sure you were still here," Crowley eventually croaked.

"Of course, dearest," Aziraphale replied.

"I promise I won't let you go. You're not going to lose me again."

Eventually they calmed down and Aziraphale carried Crowley, who had fallen asleep, to bed. Aziraphale lay awake for a few more hours, staring at the ceiling. Every so often he would turn his attention to Crowley, making sure his fiance was still asleep.

He'd had his bookshop destroyed several times, now. It hurt, but he was almost used to it by now, which hurt more. But what hurt the most was seeing Crowley so upset and feeling like he could do nothing about it.

(This wasn't true, of course. Being held by Aziraphale had made Crowley feel much better. But that didn't change how powerless Aziraphale felt.)

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths. He felt the texture of the sheets under his palms, listened to the gentle hum of the city outside, and grounded himself. And then, without moving, he reached Upwards.

"Why?" He asked. Quite possibly the worst question to ask Her.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He asked. He supposed that was what everyone Up There was asking as well.

He had another question in mind. An angrier one. But he'd heard thousands, maybe even millions, of people ask that question over the course of his life, and not one of them got an answer.

Besides. He knew why this was happening to him. And he knew why She couldn't help.

He shook himself back to Earth, his questions unanswered. He rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around Crowley, who fell into his embrace. With Crowley's chin below his own, and trying his hardest not to jostle Crowley awake, Aziraphale started to cry.

It was one thing to feel ignored, completely detached from any higher power. But it was scarier to reach up and find nothing to grab on to at all.

* * *

The next morning Aziraphale stood on the roof, holding his sword. He'd woken up after Crowley left for an early-morning drive, and decided that since he was alone he might as well practice somewhere he couldn't easily be seen.

It turned out he didn't need much practice. He'd barely wielded the sword when he didn't have to, but his skills still stuck with him. He practiced combat stances and techniques for a few hours, taking a water break every so often. Sweat made his t-shirt cling to his skin in ways that made him queasy, so he took a moment to miracle his clothes dry. He sat on the roof, looking up at the sky as the sun began to reach its peak.

He felt like he was preparing for war. Is what the other angels had gone through? Training any skill they had, readying every weapon, anxiously counting down the days until a conflict where even if they were sure what to expect, they still felt uneasy?

He knew he shouldn't feel bad about it. He'd saved the world, or rather, Adam had. It shouldn't matter to him how that affected Heaven. But he'd be lying if he said he never looked back on what happened and felt at least a little bit bad.

He vainly tried reaching Up again, though he didn't put as much energy into it. It was getting harder to keep his spirits up, and they were running out of time.

He headed back downstairs, whisking his sword away before heading to the shower. Dry or not, he still felt gross.

The shower wasn't very long, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like he was trying to wash the essence out of his body. For several minutes he stood with his head under the water and just stared blankly at the wall.

It was finally getting to him. His bookshop was gone. He supposed he could miracle the place back together, but that would take a lot of energy he wasn't sure he had, and he knew he wouldn't be able to remember every single book that had been there. He would have to be able to visualize every page to get them back perfectly. Short of divine intervention there was no way to put things back the way they were.

He eventually turned the water off and threw some clothes on, splashing his face with some cold water. He heard Crowley open the door to the apartment and ventured out into the living room.

"Ah," Crowley said, noticing the air coming off Aziraphale. "You alright?"

Aziraphale thought for a second, then shook his head. Crowley nodded, opening his arms for a hug. Aziraphale fell into his embrace, and Crowley held his fiance, rubbing his back in gentle circles and mumbling sweet nothings in his ear.

"I just feel so restless," Aziraphale said. "Like there's something more I should be doing. Like there's something I should be doing that I've forgotten that will make me feel better if I just get it over with."

"Have you eaten yet?" Crowley suggested. Aziraphale shook his head.

"Well, my kitchen is your oyster. Anything you want to eat?"

Aziraphale almost said no, but he figured that after working out all morning his corporation could use something to gnaw on.

"I'm not sure. I suppose I should have something, though."

"Hmmmm...we could make sushi? Rather than going out for it. It'll be fun."

"Are you sure? That sounds complicated."

"Nah. Shouldn't be too bad. It should just be rolling stuff up. I can look up a recipe and we can go shopping if you want. Change of scenery."

Aziraphale nodded. "Alright then."

While Aziraphale took time to make himself feel more presentable, Crowley flipped through his phone, kicking on a pair of shoes and donning his signature shades.

Aziraphale spent the trip down the stairs bracing himself for a car ride, but Crowley started walking in the general direction of the nearest supermarket.

"Fancy a stroll?" He said, smirking at Aziraphale, who nodded gratefully. They started walking side by side, Crowley lead by an infernal sense of direction. They chatted about the weather, the news, and the odd sense of fashion the youth had these days. (To the youth, this conversation would be heard and sorted away as "boomer talk".)

"We don't have much time left," Aziraphale pointed out suddenly.

"Yeah," Crowley agreed. "We should be close to the store soon."

"No, I mean - Gabriel."

"Ah. Well, no worries. Right?"

"I'm afraid I'm very worried, Crowley. What if everything goes wrong? What if we...you know..." he sighed.

"We won't," Crowley said calmly.

"How do you know?" Aziraphale replied, a little offput by Crowley's lack of concern.

"Because its US. We've been through more than just a fight with an angel. A whole apocalypse, hundreds of discorporations, two trials, two bookshop burnings...we've made it this far, what's to say we won't make it through this?"

"Because its Gabriel, dear."

"And? He's a prick. We're not. Good triumphs over evil."

"I thought that was something Hell fought against."

"I don't live there anymore."

"And who's to say Gabriel isn't Good Incarnate? That's his whole job, after all."

"Because Good is relative. Gabriel thinks he's Good. The Spanish Inquisition thought they were Good."

"What makes us different from them?"

"We aren't out to hurt people. Well...aside from Gabriel, I suppose."

"Crowley, that doesn't make any sense."

"You're right. Sort of egotistical, sorry. But my point is if we hold on to our hope that things will go well, they'll at least go...slightly well. It's worked for humans."

"With Celestial Interference, I would assume."

"Well, we're celestial, and we're interfering."

Aziraphale sighed and rubbed his temples. "You confuse me, Crowley."

"Better confused than worried, though, right?"

"...no?"

At that point they turned a corner and found the supermarket. Crowley gestured to it grandly. Aziraphale sighed and shook his head.

* * *

An hour later, back at Crowley's apartment with their sushi supplies, Crowley poured a measured cup of rice into their new rice cooker and turned it on. He set out the nori on a plate and then started slicing up the other ingredients.

"How can I help, darling?" Aziraphale asked, perching his chin on Crowley's shoulder like an owl. Crowley smiled.

"I should be alright, dear. Why don't you go put on some music? Here," he said, handing Aziraphale his phone. Aziraphale nodded, sitting down on the couch and busied himself with trying to figure out Crowley's phone. Having something to do made him feel better.

Eventually he found Crowley's music app and found one of his playlists. He didn't recognize any of the bebop but he figured Crowley would appreciate music he recognized.

"Are you sure you want to listen to this?" Crowley asked as the signature bops of Split Enz came out of his phone's speakers. "Its fairly modern."

"It's fine," Aziraphale said with a wave. "I ought to get used to the modern tunes. Besides, if you like it it ought to be good."

"Fair enough."

There was silence for a bit as Crowley carried on with his chopping and Aziraphale stared awkwardly at the floor. Aziraphale stood, opened his mouth, then closed it and sat back down.

"What's up?" Crowley asked.

"Oh, I remembered I had a lovely bottle of something back in my shop. That's all."

"Ah." Crowley put down his knife and focused all his attention on Aziraphale.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"Of course. Why?"

"You're going to twiddle your thumbs off, my dear. You've been on edge all day."

"Yes, well. I told you why on the way to the store. Nothing's changed since then."

"Ah. Well. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Aziraphale sighed. "I don't know. I was hoping a drink might help."

"I might have a bottle of something in the cabinets behind me," Crowley offered. The rice cooker dinged. "Ah! Help me cool the rice off."

He scooped the hot rice onto a plate and sprinkled some rice vinegar on it, fanning it off.

"When did you get so good at making sushi?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley smiled nervously.

"I may have...practiced before...I was going to surprise you with homemade sushi at some point but I never got around to it."

Aziraphale responded by walking over and kissing Crowley on the cheek. "Show me what to do?"

Crowley nodded. "Once the rice is cool, we'll put it on this bamboo sheet with some plastic wrap and put some of the seaweed on top of it. Then we'll put the other stuff on and roll it up."

"Sounds easy enough."

It wasn't as easy as Aziraphale had hoped, but after a few small messes and some tutorials from Crowley, they figured it out. Soon they had a few plates of homemade sushi ready to go. Crowley pulled a bottle of wine out of the cabinets the way a magician would pull a rabbit out of a hat, and Aziraphale found some candles for a more romantic atmosphere.

"Would these be alright, dear?" He asked. Crowley paled a bit, which Aziraphale took as a "no". They set their sushi down on the table anyway, and Crowley pulled a few pairs of chopsticks out of his shopping bag.

"You really thought of everything," Aziraphale beamed. Crowley nodded.

The sushi was better than what they'd eaten at restaurants before, though Aziraphale guessed that was because they'd made it themselves.

A few hours later, fish eaten and a few more bottles of wine drunk, Aziraphale was lying on the couch, head in Crowley's lap. Crowley stroked his fiance's hair while Aziraphale rambled on about, of all things, Hamlet.

"...How stand I then, that have a bookshop burn'd, a heart stain'd, excitements of my reason and my blood, wander it all sleep, while to my shame I see the imminent death of twenty thousand angels, that for fantasy and trick of frame go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot whereupon numbers cannot try the cause, which is not tomb enough and continent to hide the slain?" He dramatically clapped the back of a hand to his forehead. Crowley clapped politely.

"You remember it sso well," Crowley said.

"I've got th'book back in my...y'know..." Aziraphale shrugged. He'd had a good bit more to drink than Crowley had.

"Any reasson you picked that passssage, dear?" Crowley asked.

"Yeah. S'how I feel. All've Heaven ready to fight a war over their pride, for nothing, and me, fighting for our lives, and useless. Same thing Hamlet was doing."

"You're not usselessss," Crowley said, brow furrowed. "And you're not the only one fighting. I'm with you, remember?"

"Yeh. I know. You're always with me, Crowley."

He smiled up at Crowley, making a kissy face. Crowley laughed.

"My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, and like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where shall I first begin, and both neglect," Aziraphale intoned.

"We have our Plan," Crowley said. "And in a few dayss we'll ssee how well it workss. It might fail, might ssucceed, but if we do nothing then nothing can go right, right?"

"Right. Yeah." Aziraphale sighed. He closed his eyes, and Crowley assumed he was thinking up another Hamlet quote. After a few minutes, however, it was clear Aziraphale had fallen asleep. Crowley didn't mind, and cracked his neck a bit so sleeping on the couch would be more comfortable.

"Goodnight, dear," he said, turning off the lights and summoning a blanket with a wave of his hand. He adjusted his position so they were lying next to each other, and fell asleep without much further fuss.


	15. The Fall of Gabriel

AN: This and the next chapter, while arguably the climax of the story, contain depictions of depression and suicidal urges. If this is triggering to you, I suggest skipping this and chapter 16 and going straight to chapter 17. There will be a recap there for those that choose to do this.

* * *

Aziraphale buttoned up his blue shirt, slipped on the velveteen vest, and carefully pulled the coat over the top of it all. He set about carefully tucking the bottom layer into his pants, hesitantly going to the mirror to check that his bowtie was arranged properly.

"It's just a suit of armor," he told himself. He felt a little bad for the clothes. They weren't terrible, they just had recently acquired some bad memories associated with them. Once this business was over, he'd have to do something about that.

He stepped out of the bedroom and waited as Crowley, who'd been waiting on the couch, looked him over.

"How do I look?" He asked nervously.

"Like an angel," Crowley said glumly. Aziraphale nodded.

He checked to make sure his sword was still within reach, then straightened himself once more, relaxing a bit with the familiar motions of pulling on his vest and adjusting his tie.

"Ready?" Crowley asked.

"As ready as I can be," Aziraphale answered. Both nodded at each other. Crowley stood up, hand reaching for Aziraphale's. As he connected with the angel he glamoured himself up, his outfit changing to a white and blue version of itself.

"Not my color, is it?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Aziraphale agreed, mind elsewhere. Crowley took his other hand.

"We're going to get through this, love. I promise. I'll never leave your side."

Aziraphale nodded. He reached out for a hug and Crowley obliged, pulling him in tightly.

"I'm scared," Aziraphale whispered.

"Me too," Crowley replied. "But when has that stopped us before?"

Aziraphale sniffled a little, eventually pulling away and miracling his face dry.

"I'm ready."

* * *

Crowley hesitated when they got to the pearly gateway. He placed a hand on the gate, grabbing it tightly when it didn't immediately vaporize him. He stuck a toe in, followed by the rest of his leg, and finally his whole corporation came through unharmed. He moved briskly to catch up with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was very good at going unnoticed in Heaven. He was now cynically, acutely aware of how little the angels cared about him, and he used it to his advantage as he moved through the blindingly white hallways of heaven. Crowley wished he had brought his sunglasses, or at least more eye protection than a pair of blue contacts.

They finally reached Gabriel's office, Aziraphale nodding to the guarding angels as he pushed the door open, locking it after Crowley. Funny how easy this part was. After all, what angel would suspect another of outright violence?

Gabriel looked up from his desk, flicking something out of his hands.

"Aziraphale?" He gasped. "Its been so long! How kind of you to grace us with your angelic presence. The other principalities thought you might have been...discorporated...since our last chat."

"No doubt you would have enjoyed that."

"Oof, so cold! Not like you at all, principality. What's gotten into you? Someone spit in your sushi?"

Aziraphale remained silent.

"Been looking at your miracle reports. Gotta say, I'm not impressed. What have you been up to all this time? Sitting around in your bookshop? Or, wait, that burned down again, didn't it? Sorry to hear, principality. Tough luck. But, signs from above do come to even angels every once in awhile. Maybe someone's trying to tell you it's time to move on from selling crusty old books. Hmm? What's next on the agenda for you, principality?"

"My name is Aziraphale."

"Of course it is. Now then, if you're done playing shopkeeper down there, maybe we could find a more useful position for you up here? You could organize the filing cabinets again, God knows that hasn't been done in a century or two. Maybe the custodians could use some extra help dusting, you'd be good at that."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing all the air out of his body. His fear lessened, and he relaxed a bit, opening his eyes to glare at Gabriel.

"I'm not here to apply for a new position," Aziraphale said. "I quit."

Gabriel paused, then burst into laughter.

"Quitting! An angel, quitting his post! Haha! Good one, principality! You know you can't just quit. You're one of us, forever. Unless you'd rather Fall, I suppose. Dunno why you'd wanna do that, though, considering that demon you like so much has been kicked out. Nothing for you down there but another job you can go be useless at. Might be nice, though, to get you out of my hair.

"Is that your plan, principality? To fall? It's not a choice you can make lightly. It just sort of happens to you. You don't get to decide. So if that's what you want, I suggest you find a real job and make use of yourself instead of hoping for things."

"I'm not going to Fall. I'm on my own side."

"Is that what they're calling it these days? Funny, I didn't peg you for being hip with the kids."

"I'm done here, Gabriel. I'm done with being a principality, I'm done with being an angel, and I'm done working for you. I quit. I'm on my own side now."

"Then why come back? If you'd just left well enough alone you wouldn't have had to come all the way up here."

"We both know that's not true."

"Do we? Seems like you've got a version of myself in your head that doesn't match reality, angel. I'm not FORCING anyone to do anything. I simply ask, and they comply. Just like you did. Just like you're going to keep doing. So how about we put a pin in this talk about quitting, and I go ask the custodians if they can use an extra duster?"

He looked at the flaming sword, now held tightly in Aziraphale's hand.

"So it's like that, huh?" He stood from the desk, pulling out his own sword.

"You sure you want to do this? If you hurt me, there's no going back. You'll be an outcast. No more of Heaven's pleasures for you."

"That's exactly what I want," Aziraphale said, moving into a fighting stance.

Looking at the two, you'd think that Gabriel would have the obvious advantage. As the archangel pulled off the outer layers of his suit, it became pretty obvious that all of that jogging wasn't just for show. Toned, defined muscles stood out against the egg white button-up shirt he'd chosen to wear that day. He wasn't overly buff, but an unassuming onlooker would easily have assumed that he could overpower the portly, older-looking principality without breaking a sweat.

What Gabriel didn't count on, however, were two things. The first was that Aziraphale had been created to wield that sword. If he had any, it would have been in his DNA. The sword was almost an extension of his body, and the skill of 6000 years shone through brilliantly.

Fighting Aziraphale was harder than it should have been. Gabriel should have been able to flick the sword out of Aziraphale's hands. But he was growing tired fast, his breath haggard as he dodged the flaming sword again and again. He kept swinging, skill eventually leaving him as his focus was just on doing damage. Aziraphale moved like it was nothing, dancing around his sword and parrying instinctively.

The second thing Gabriel hadn't counted on was that Aziraphale wasn't alone. As Gabriel focused on sword fighting Aziraphale, Crowley snuck around the room, blending in with the scenery as he approached Gabriel's desk. Hiding underneath it, he found two things that made him go pale. First, a gun full of iron bullets with anti-demonic sigils welded into them. Second, a waste basket with grey and black feathers at the bottom.

He stood up from the desk, observing the situation. He saw Gabriel stutter in his steps as Aziraphale pressed on, the two of them unconsciously moving towards the open window in Gabriel's office that looked out to clouds and open sky.

He waited until they'd gotten close to the window, and then he struck. Crowley burst forward, punching Gabriel hard enough in the face that he stumbled backwards, clutching his cheek as the steel of Crowley's ring burned him. Crowley kicked Gabriel in the chest for good measure, and he went tumbling out the window and down to the earth below.

"Are you alright?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded. "I haven't fought like that in awhile." He took a few good, deep breaths.

"Listen, I think something's wrong with Gabriel. I think he's-"

"YOU!"

They turned to the window to see Gabriel, now flying in front of the window. His six wings were speckled with black and grey feathers, and the side of his face where Crowley had hit him was swollen, with veins bulging from his skin.

"Look what you've done to me!" He shouted.

Crowley stepped back, arm in front of Aziraphale.

"Wait, wait a minute. I remember you! You're the demon that helped that principality fuck up the apocalypse! Oh, this is RICH! What's in it for you then, demon? Someone to take your place in Hell? The satisfaction of corrupting an angel? Or...wait...is he your lover?"

"Fiance," Crowley corrected suavely, ignoring the shaking feeling in his knees. "And before you ask, I'm afraid you aren't invited to the wedding."

Gabriel burst into laughter, shaking a few pale feathers loose from his wings as he did so.

"Classic! Absolutely classic! I knew you were a sap, principality, but not this much! Falling in love with a fucking demon! No wonder you've been so useless, you've been too busy sleeping with the enemy!"

"It's not like that!" Aziraphale protested, unable to stop himself.

"Course not. Oh, this makes things so much better! Now I get to crush both rebels at once!"

"Why can't you just leave us alone?" Crowley yelled.

"Oh, demon, have an ounce of sense! If I let you get off easy, the other angels and demons too lazy to do their jobs might start thinking they can just skip off with zero consequences, and then where would we be? No, I've got to make an example out of you. Even if that means killing you both!"

He dove through the window, swinging his sword wildly. Aziraphale pushed Crowley out of the way and blocked the sword with his own, putting a foot back to resist the force. Gabriel, however, had other plans, grabbing Aziraphale by the shoulders and pushing back out the window. Once he was clear of the cloud line he let go, Aziraphale plummeting.

"AZIRAPHALE!" Crowley screamed, running for the window. Gabriel flew back into the room, kicking Crowley backwards.

"You and me, shit-face!" Gabriel swung his sword at Crowley, who staggered out of the way. Crowley dropped to the ground and kicked up, trying to knock the sword out of Gabriel's hands. He missed, and had to dodge quickly as Gabriel stabbed down at the floor, cutting into Crowley's shoulder. Crowley howled, rolling away and trying to get to his feet as quickly as possible. Gabriel swung again, catching Crowley in the side.

Crowley crawled over to Gabriel's desk, sliding under it. He grabbed the gun and rolled back out, taking aim at Gabriel and pulling the trigger. He caught Gabriel in the arm, and Gabriel stepped back, taking a knee. The two of them knelt on the floor for a moment, clutching their respective wounds.

"Gun won't do anything to me," Gabriel rationalized. "I haven't Fallen yet."

"But you will," Crowley assumed. Gabriel growled.

"I won't. I'm not. I'm fine. Everything is fine. Once I kill you I'll stop Falling."

"You never stop. You can say you're fine till you're blue in the face, but that won't change the fact that you're not actually fine. You're hurting, Gabriel. You're doubting. You're-"

"SHUT UP!" Gabriel lunged forward, Crowley just barely moving out of the way. He kicked Gabriel on the arm where he'd shot him, and Gabriel shrieked.

"You BASTARD! Why couldn't you have just stayed in Hell?"

"I found my own side," Crowley answered, rolling to the side to dodge another lunge.

"Bullshit! You just wanted a taste of Heaven again. That's why you demons fight so hard. You want what we have!" Gabriel swung, and Crowley caught his sword arm, holding it just barely above his face. The aura of the holy sword didn't hurt him, but he could feel it lapping at his skin.

"Maybe, at first, I did. I missed Heaven, and Her. But Falling's not so bad once you get past it." He pushed up on the sword, and Gabriel staggered backwards."

"Falling hurts, I won't lie to you. But, eventually, that pain fades until you don't notice it anymore. You learn to be content with what you've become."

"You're lying. Why else would you go after an angel, even just a principality?"

"Because we love each other!" Crowley swung for Gabriel's face as the archangel charged once more.

"We didn't like each other at first because angels like you said we had to. But then we got past the hereditary enemy nonsense and realized there's more to us than what we've been made to do!"

"Bullshit." Gabriel swung his sword, and Crowley caught it in the arm, yelping. He staggered backwards, slowing down once he noticed that Gabriel wasn't following him. A few more white feathers fell to the floor as Gabriel stopped to catch his breath.

"I promise it's not bullshit, Gabriel. I felt the same way for a long time. But you'll find something that makes life worth living, and once you do, you cling to it like it's all you have."

"But I did," Gabriel admitted, composure breaking a little as he slumped down to the floor. Crowley knelt to join him.

"Running this. Being in charge. Being Her right hand archangel. Not a single slip-up, not a spot on my record. Until you. Angels saw what you and that principality did. They saw their War, the only goal they had, the thing we were all working towards our entire lives, snatched away by two corporations who couldn't muster the loyalty to fight for their own sides. They saw you get away scot free. They saw that they could withstand hellfire if they just took 'their own side'. You have no idea what I've had to deal with. No clue. Trying to run this place now...we have nothing. No more War. No more instructions from Her. I..." he gulped.

"I haven't heard her voice since Armageddon. She hasn't asked anything of me. I've been saying 'business as usual' but it's not usual anymore. My life has been ruined by a demon and a fucking principality!"

"His name is Aziraphale," Crowley said, standing as he sensed Gabriel's emotional monologue was over.

"Like I ever gave a shit," Gabriel scowled, rising as well. It might have been a trick of the light, but his wings seemed...darker now. His hair was all over the place, and the mark on his cheek looked like it was toxic.

"If you kill me," he said, "I still win. You'll be the demon who killed an archangel. Heaven will have a new goal: hunting you down. You won't be able to breathe without a chorus of angels hearing about it. They'll chase you 'till you can't run anymore, and then they'll kill you just like you're going to kill me."

"And what then?" Crowley asked. "No more leader, no more goals."

"Someone will take my place. Maybe Sandalphon. Doesn't matter. It's you or me, now."

"Not quite."

Crowley and Gabriel turned, seeing Aziraphale fit himself back through the doorway. On his back was a pair of wings, but not pure angel wings anymore. Instead, they resembled an owl's wings, with brown speckles and flecks of gold. He swung the flaming sword in front of him, landing steadily next to Crowley.

Gabriel chuckled darkly. "Your own side, huh? Must be nice to have something to go to as a backup plan." He swung his sword at Aziraphale, who dodged, pulling his wings back and away from the threat. Gabriel growled as he continued to swing at Aziraphale, unaware of Crowley sneaking up behind him and placing the ring against his skin. Gabriel screamed, pulling away, knocking Crowley to the floor and lunging at Aziraphale, who, caught off guard, barely managed to move away in time for Gabriel's sword to slide across his leg. He yelped, moving away.

Gabriel cackled. He swung again at Aziraphale, who dodged and flew around to Crowey, lifting his fiance off the ground. Crowley kicked out at Gabriel again, pushing him into the desk behind him, and as Gabriel rebounded Crowley hit him again with his ringed hand. This time, though, nothing happened. No sizzling of skin, no unearthly howls from Gabriel. Crowley stepped back, moving to retrieve the gun from the floor, but Gabriel somehow got there first, aiming it at Crowley's head.

There was a pause as all three participants realized the weight of what was about to happen. Nobody breathed.

"What happens after you kill me?" Crowley finally asked. "Nobody else to blame things on. No revengeful purpose. You'll be worse off than you started. You'll be just another demon killing a demon."

"What?"

"My ring. It only hurts angels." Crowley reached out and touched Gabriel's hand. Nothing happened.

"No." Gabriel stepped back, lowering the gun.

"No," Gabriel said again, reaching back for his wings. They'd crossed the tipping point between white and grey, and about half of his feathers were black now.

"No, no, I...I don't want this."

"It's not a choice you can make," Aziraphale said sadly, realizing what was going on. "It just happens to you."

"No. No, this shouldn't be happening. I'm an archangel! I can't...I can't Fall. They'll...She'll...I'm not..."

"Gabriel," Crowley said gently. "You don't have to fight it anymore. Let it happen."

"I can't," Gabriel whispered, terrified. "Look at what you've done to me."

"You did this to yourself," Aziraphale said. "But you can live with it. You don't need to panic. This isn't the end."

Gabriel shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "Being an archangel was all I had. It's all I was meant to be. Without it, I'm...I'm..."

"Still you. Still Gabriel," Crowley said. "Just different."

"I don't want to be different. I want to be an angel. You got to choose. Why can't I? I want it enough. I've fought for it enough. Why can't I have what I want?"

"Sometimes," Aziraphale said slowly, "we don't get to be what we want. Sometimes things happen and we don't get to decide how they do. It's not fair. But that's life."

"But we're angels. Or...are we?"

"I don't know what I am," Aziraphale shrugged. "And I don't much care, as long as I'm safe and happy and with the one I love."

"You were happy...no, you weren't. You weren't happy being one of us."

"No, I wasn't. I wanted to be. I wanted to be just as special and important as you were. But it didn't happen. And rather than fixate on it, I chose to become something else. Myself."

"How?"

"I can't tell you that. I can help, and I can offer advice, but you must be the one to decide what makes you happy, I'm afraid. I can't tell you, and neither can She."

"You really want to help me after all this? After all we've done to you both? You came in here to kill me."

"I came here to quit my job," Aziraphale corrected. "Though we were prepared for a fight, to be fair."

"And I gave it to you..."

"Indeed..."

There was silence for a few moments. Gabriel fidgeted with the gun in his hands.

"What if I don't want to be better? What if I don't want to be anything? Nobody would miss me. I've already Fallen. Might as well spare myself the pain of dealing with the rest of it, right?"

"You'd be robbing yourself of a chance for anything better than this. Of any redemption, any happiness, any life away from this one."

"I used to be happy. Used to love this job. And the...the Good of it. But I can't be Good anymore if I'm a demon, can I?"

"Speaking from experience," Crowley interjected, "you can do quite a lot of Good as a demon. I think Aziraphale would say I've had my...urgh...Good Moments."

"Quite so," Aziraphale nodded, smirking a bit.

"So...what do I do now? Where do I go from here?"

"Up to you," Aziraphale replied. "You can stay here and keep fighting to be an angel again. You can Fall, and make a life for yourself as a demon. Or, you can choose your own side. Do what makes you feel good."

"Not...not, uh, your side, I assume?"

"No," Aziraphale said politely but firmly. There was another moment of pause.

"I think...I'll try something new. Something outside of this. Might be good to get off my high horse for once. Until I figure out what I want."

Gabriel sighed deeply, placing the gun on the desk next to him and burying his head in his hands. Then, looking half his size, he began to cry.

* * *

Aziraphale and Crowley teleported home, lacking the energy to fly all the way back. As they crossed the threshold into Crowley's apartment, Aziraphale broke down, sobbing. Crowley didn't say anything, but he held his fiance tightly, eventually crying with him. It wasn't till the sun rose the next morning that Aziraphale finally gathered the strength to get a glass of water for both of them, and Crowley grabbed a blanket so they could curl up on the couch. After they took time to patch up their wounds, Crowley lay there with Aziraphale, brushing his fiance's hair with his hand until he fell asleep. Crowley, meanwhile, stared at the ceiling of the apartment, able to do nothing but blink and contemplate.

* * *

A few hours later he got a message.

AD: How'd things go?

AC: badly

AD: are you okay?

AC: physically, mostly

AD: wanna talk about it?

AC: no. but long story short gabriel fell and he didnt take it well

AD: oh shit

AD: is he still out there?

AC: yeah, but its a long story

AC: and complicated

AD: Are you okay?

AC: still no

AD: would you be alright with people coming over?

AC: lemme ask

AC: he said sure. bring cake

AD: will do. Should we invite Tracy?

AC: for sure. bring wine too

AD: got it

The two women arrived half an hour later, and Crowley miracled the door open. Anathema set a cake and a bag of snacks down in the kitchen, and set about making tea while Madame Tracy immediately hurried to the couch to hug both Crowley and Aziraphale. Aziraphale started crying again, holding Madame Tracy so tightly Crowley feared he might squish her.

"Tell us everything," Madame Tracy said. "Let us help."

And they did.


	16. At Risk of Falling Further

AN: Once again, this chapter contains a depiction of depression and suicidal ideation. If this is triggering to you at any point, I suggest skipping to chapter 17.

* * *

The next few weeks were hard on both of them. Aziraphale was distraught and mad at himself for being distraught and mad at himself for being mad at himself for being distraught. Crowley, who had less of an attachment to the archangel but was still shaken by the fight, did his best to care for his fiance. Usually that meant ordering delivery, though occasionally he felt up to venturing outside to pick something up. There were a few nights when Anathema brought over pizza and obscure board games, or Madame Tracy brought tea and her drums, and those nights did make them feel better, but there were also nights where Aziraphale would wake up screaming, or Crowley would nearly constrict Aziraphale in his sleep, and then they both would be awake and holding each other tightly, as if worried the other would vanish if they let go of even an inch of flesh.

One afternoon, Crowley convinced Aziraphale to venture out onto the roof of the apartment, where they both stood staring at the setting sun.

Aziraphale stared up at the clouds before eventually sitting on the concrete, lying back and using his arms as a pillow. Crowley joined him, and they stared up and the open sky, which felt slightly emptier than it might have before.

"What have we done?" Aziraphale asked. "This is our fault. If we hadn't disobeyed orders..."

"The world would have ended, Aziraphale."

"I know that. But what if we'd...if we had found a way to give them purpose..."

"That's not our job. I hate what happened, don't think I don't, but do you really think we could have given all of Heaven and Hell orders? And that they would have listened?"

"What do you think they're doing now? Without..."

"They'll find something to do. They will. Whether the orders come from Above or Below or Inbetween. Bureaucracy always finds a way to keep on going. Look at me. All they did was tell me to come to Earth and cause a ruckus, and I did, and here we are!"

"With the Fall of an archangel on our hands."

"...yeah. You're right. But it could have been worse. I don't think Gabriel was planning on letting himself Fall."

"What?"

"That gun he had was made for killing demons."

"Oh. Oh dear."

There was a pause. Crowley was just about to ask if Aziraphale was okay when his fiance spoke.

"I think we should help him. He's all alone, and with how he...how he took it...I feel rather heartless leaving him out in the world."

"But you said he had to figure it out himself."

"It was just an idea," Aziraphale said.

"And I'm not shooting it down! I just want to know why. He's been horrible to you our whole lives."

"I know that. But...he was around that entire time. Maybe you didn't have to deal with him, but I was there for just about everything, good and bad. Even if...even knowing he was horrible, part of me still...cares for him. Maybe just because I'm...I was an angel, and we're supposed to care for everyone, no matter what, but...I didn't want him to die...or even to Fall..."

He wiped his face, sniffling. "He was like a brother," he sobbed. "Even after everything he did, I can't find it within me to think he deserved what happened. He was just trying to follow orders. He was just trying to do what he was supposed to."

"Yeah, but he was a dick about it. And he hurt you. A lot. Treated you like shit. You don't hate him for that?"

"I...should. It's hard. I hate it. I hate all of this. I wish it would just stop."

"Aziraphale?"

"I'm sick of things happening to me and not being able to do anything about them! I'm sick of being hurt! I'm sick of feeling so terrible all the time about everything!"

He sat up, staring out at the cityscape. For a moment, he wondered if this was how Gabriel had felt, and he felt bile rise in his throat.

"I need to be alone for awhile," he said quietly. "Have dinner without me. I'll come down for bed."

Crowley, worried he'd hurt Aziraphale further, only grunted in acknowledgement and stood, heading back inside.

* * *

Aziraphale didn't come down for bed. Crowley found him still on the rooftop.

"Aziraphale?" He called out, in the way that one calls a kitten down from a tree branch.

Aziraphale didn't say anything. He was standing at the edge of the roof, looking down at the busy street below.

"Don't," Crowley said firmly. Aziraphale didn't respond. Crowley moved towards him. He placed a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, and Aziraphale jumped, surprised.

"Don't," Crowley said again. "Whatever you're thinking about, stop it."

"I wasn't going to do anything. I was just...thinking."

"Can you come think inside?"

"I think...I'd rather not continue this train of thought right now, if that's okay." He leaned into Crowley's shoulders, and Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale.

"Don't let me go," Aziraphale said, giving in to Crowley's embrace.

* * *

It settled into his bones like a stray cat. He was frightened, at first, when he looked inside himself and found it there, but after awhile it became a familiar ache, a constant nagging feeling sitting on his chest.

"You've been alive for too long," it said.

"Armageddon was supposed to be it, and now that's come and gone. How much longer will we have to go on like this?" It asked.

"You know how to make the pain stop," it whispered. "Its pretty fucking obvious."

He pushed it away. He took showers in the dark, he nibbled at his food, he avoided mirrors. He listened to music at high volumes and lost himself in tombs he'd read a thousand times and watched television shows he didn't like. He asked for weekly drum sessions with Madame Tracy and lied and said everything was fine and banged out not an ounce of his true feelings. He went for walks, letting himself get lost in the twists and turns of the city before miraculously finding his way home. He sat alone in parks and coffee shops and libraries and listened as the voice told him how insignificant he was, how much none of these people cared, how much he could vanish like any one of them and nothing about the world would change. He walked alone at night and wished someone would come after him, and more than once he caught himself looking out into the road and fighting a sudden instinct to throw himself in front of the next passing car. He either slept obsessively, unable to live with himself and the crushingly slow passage of time, or he went without it altogether, staring out at the city at four in the morning and wishing he was anywhere else but in this room, in this body, in this brain.

He put on a happy face for Crowley. He smiled and said he was just fine, thank you darling, just need some fresh air. He held Crowley until he fell asleep and cuddled with him on the couch while they watched movies and stayed away from that rooftop. He worried what would happen if Crowley knew how he felt. He saw a future where Crowley pushed him away in disgust, unwilling to hold him anymore, unwilling to be there for him anymore, knowing the whole time they'd been together the last two months he'd been lying about how he felt and aching for an escape from his own celestial coil. The way Crowley had looked at him that night on the roof stung like it was fresh every time the voice in the back of his head made him think about it.

He wanted to be held. He wanted to explode. He wanted to scream. He wanted to simply vanish and be forgotten by everyone, not wanting to burden them with grief. He was tearing himself apart with every waking moment, and the worst part of it was that a sick thing inside himself enjoyed it. Every so often a snarky comment would slip out to Crowley, or he would eat a little less dinner on purpose, or he would sleep in an extra day. He felt like it was lashing out and expressing his feelings and crying for help all at once. He bathed in his own negative feelings until his tongue tasted bitter.

One morning he woke, his hair no longer the peroxide-white it had been forever. Instead, it was salt-and-pepper grey. Crowley insisted he liked it, and Aziraphale did too. It felt less...false.

He stopped taking care of himself. Let his hair do what it wanted, didn't force himself to eat. Some days it felt like a weight was pressing him into bed, like he couldn't control his own body anymore.

The panic attacks came back, too, usually triggered by his nightmares. After a few nights where he woke up with shaky breath and pain in his joints from holding too much tension in his body, he moved to the couch after Crowley fell asleep so as not to wake his fiance.

It was getting harder to talk to people. He told Madame Tracy he needed a break. He told Anathema he was going through a lot and needed some rest. He told Crowley he was tired. He didn't want to face them. Didn't know how he could, with the feeling holding him so tightly. He didn't want them to see him like this. He didn't want them to worry, and ask him a thousand questions, and fuss over him. They didn't deserve it. Not for him.

The worst part of it was that he felt like he didn't deserve to feel this way. Gabriel was alive, they'd accomplished their goals, everything should be fine. He was selfish for feeling so horrible. There was no reason behind his feelings. He didn't have the right to feel like this, he thought. The embarrassment he felt sometimes, embarrassment that he even felt this bad, kept him from saying anything as well.

And so the feeling grew ever larger, covering him like a thick cloak, covering his eyes till the world had no color. And, unable to bring himself to do anything, he waited. He basked. He suffered. Alone.

* * *

One evening, Crowley came out of the shower, hair in a messy top knot he'd seen on Instagram, and he plopped himself down on the bed next to Aziraphale.

"Can I see your wings?"

Aziraphale looked up from his book. "Eh?"

"Your wings. I completely forgot you grew them back."

"I don't know that 'grew them' is the right word..."

"How did you get them back, then? They were completely gone before."

"Ah, well...I'm not altogether sure. I was falling for a...a long time, and...I thought about you. And about Gabriel. And about how I wouldn't be able to file paperwork for a new form if I...discorporated. And then the next thing I knew, on instinct, I opened my wings...and there they were. They looked different, but they felt the same, they had the same energy, almost. It felt...I feel...different. Like...something else. Not quite an angel anymore. But I didn't think about it, I was more focused on getting to you. I haven't taken them out again since."

"Would you? Now?"

Aziraphale nodded, putting his book down and moving around in bed so his back was to Crowley. With a deep breath and a gentle gesture of his shoulders, he released his wings. They flowed out onto the bed, a glow of golden energy at first, then forming into more familiar feathers. Crowley reached out, running his hand across one, and Aziraphale flinched.

"Sorry," he said. "Bit sensitive."

"In a bad way?"

"No, just, er...ticklish, I suppose? Bit odd. Like fresh skin after a wound heals."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"...no. Did you want to preen them?"

Crowley hummed an affirmation. Aziraphale wiggled a bit to get comfortable, and Crowley spread his hands over the wings, admiring their colors. Warm browns, tans, even what seemed like flecks of gold ran across the feathers. Crowley deftly massaged each one of them, even kissing a few.

"They're beautiful," he said. "Soft, too."

"Like me," Aziraphale mumbled. Crowley flumped forward, wrapping his arms over Aziraphale's shoulders. He contorted his neck in a way that shouldn't be possible and planted kisses all over Aziraphale's face.

"Are you sure you're alright, dear? You feel cold."

"I am," he said blankly.

"I'll make you some cocoa if you'd like," Crowley offered, and Aziraphale nodded, already thinking about the four days of sleep he planned to take. Once Crowley had left the room, he was alone with his thoughts again, and they drifted somewhere darker than usual. Before, he'd longed for escape, to simply disappear. But tonight, the feeling pressing down on his spine was giving him directions, loud and certain. It scared him. He felt it pulling him back to the rooftop, and he realized he didn't want to go.

Crowley came back with the cocoa and took one look at the faraway, hopeless look in Aziraphale's eyes and set the cup down, sitting next to Aziraphale in bed.

"Talk to me, Aziraphale. Please."

"I can't."

"Yes you can, love. Tell me what's wrong. I haven't said anything because I didn't want to push you, but you don't...seem alright. Let me in."

Aziraphale shook his head vigorously, hands over his face. Crowley, refusing to give up without a fight, wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, gently murmuring in his ear.

"I'm so worried about you, darling. I don't know what you're going through right now, but I want to help. I want to help you with whatever it is you're dealing with, because this scares me. Please, Aziraphale. You need to tell me what's going on."

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment longer, until he felt the wave of love and genuine concern wafting off of Crowley. And his resolve broke. Slowly, in short sentences that gradually got longer and were only interrupted by sobs, he told Crowley about everything. The burning, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that never went away. The constant sense of dread and hopelessness. The incessant yearning for release. And below it all, fear, fear that he would let it overcome him and he would truly, truly Fall, farther than Crowley, farther than Gabriel, farther than Lazarus himself.

Aziraphale risked a glance, expecting to see revulsion flash across Crowley's face. But instead, he was met with horror. With shock. And worst of all, with guilt. Tears welled up in Crowley's eyes.

It suddenly got very hard for Aziraphale to breathe. His hands curled into fists and he clamped his eyes shut, unconsciously grabbing Crowley tightly as he shook, gasping for air. Crowley grabbed back, just as tightly.

"Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It's gonna be okay. Breathe. C'mon. It'll be alright."

"No, it's NOT!" Aziraphale wheezed. "It's not alright! I can't take any more of pretending that it is!"

"I won't let you Fall. I promise. I'm here for you, Aziraphale. I always will be. Please, please promise me you'll do the same."

"I can't," he choked. "Not right now. But I don't...I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you."

Crowley didn't ask why he couldn't promise. He understood. The thing clawing it's way out of Aziraphale's stomach was too loud tonight.

"I won't let you go," he swore. "Never. I'll stay with you. I'll help you get better. If that's what you want."

"I can't go on like this. I won't last."

"Do you want to get better?"

"...yes. Yes. I want to get better."

Crowley nearly crushed Aziraphale, whose hysterical breaths were cut into by sobbing now.

"Don't let me go," he begged.

"I won't," Crowley said. "I won't."


	17. Finale

Recap, for those who skipped chapters 15 and 16: Aziraphale and Crowley confronted Gabriel, who Fell right in front of them. After some talk with the two, Gabriel decided to leave the system of Heaven and Hell altogether, and is now living on Earth. The Fall of Gabriel took a heavy mental toll on Aziraphale as he faced his own immortality. With help from Crowley, he is improving.

* * *

The first time he did it, he felt a little silly.

Aziraphale rolled over one morning, waiting until Crowley was awake.

"Good morning, dear," he mumbled. "I love you."

Crowley's smile made him feel a bit less ridiculous. So much so that he didn't hesitate to do the same thing the next day. And the next. By the end of the week, Crowley was getting in on the habit, too, some mornings even waking up before Aziraphale to mumble his daily sweet nothings. By the end of the month, they had a few days where they both waited for the other to "wake up", then rolled over and said "Good morning, I love you", laughing when they saw they'd done so in unison. It was a small gesture, but it made a difference.

There were still stressful mornings. Sometimes Crowley would wake from a nightmare and Aziraphale would hold him tightly for several minutes, making sure he was calm before whispering "Good morning, I love you" into his ear. Sometimes Crowley would wake to find that Aziraphale hadn't slept at all the night before, and his "Good morning, I love you" would snap Aziraphale out of whatever funk he'd spent the last few hours in for a bit.

They also started going outside more, as a couple. There were mornings where neither of them wanted to go, and those days they didn't push themselves, but every other morning they got up, had breakfast, and then walked to the park. Sometimes they would stop at a cafe instead, and treat themselves to something tasty as a reward for getting outside.

They weren't attached at the hip, obviously. Crowley still went on his drives, and Aziraphale started going to the local library. Usually he would stroll in a direction that seemed compelling and pick a book that stood out to him, though sometimes he would hunt for an old favorite. Occasionally, he would just find a comfortable chair and sit without any book at all, watching the world go by around him.

It was on one trip to the library that he ran into Gabriel. The ex-archangel had been sheepish at first, keeping his distance. Aziraphale made no effort to appease him, though he did exchange pleasantries. Gabriel apologized, at the same time acknowledging that nothing he could say could make up for the last 6000 years. Aziraphale thanked him for the apology, and admitted it was nice to hear the words come out of his mouth. Gabriel mentioned he'd been seeing a therapist - obviously making up a backstory for himself - and that he'd gotten himself a part time job at a supermarket, figuring he deserved to "get ordered around by assholes for awhile". He offered to give Aziraphale his number, which Aziraphale, despite himself, accepted. (If such a number later mysteriously vanished from his phone, who was to know but him?) A second apology later Gabriel rushed off down the sidewalk, clearly late for his job. Aziraphale, who had been planning on looking for a book, instead went straight home to discuss the turn of events with Crowley.

The two of them got into baking, as well. They started a habit of having Wednesday Baking Nights with Madame Tracy, and the three of them took turns finding recipes from cookbooks or recipe blogs and making them. While whatever they made was in the oven, Madame Tracy brought out her drums, and they drummed their stress away.

Thursday nights Anathema brought board games and Newt, who knew how to play the odder ones. Aziraphale quickly realized that they could bake something on Wednesday night and serve it Thursday, so he started looking for more elaborate recipes to show off with. He also started looking up various drink recipes, after one evening when Crowley handed him his phone and told him to surprise him and "go nuts".

On Friday nights they would stay in and relax. They'd bake some challah, light some candles, and drink wine, toasting to their continued lives together. Crowley still wasn't sure whether he felt closer to Anyone In Particular about their weekly ritual, but he did find a calming, warm presence about the whole affair, and that was enough for him.

After about a year of this, they finally got married. They rented the gazebo in the park where so many dramatic moments in their life had happened. They both wore dresses, because Crowley wanted to show off and Aziraphale wanted to shake it up. Crowley's dress was a long, lavender mermaid-style dress, while Aziraphale went with a poofier, more princess-looking dress in a shocking shade of mauve. Everyone involved agreed they looked smashing.

Not long after, they moved out to a cottage in a small nearby village. It had a full kitchen for baking, a large garden for gardening, and a spare room that Aziraphale used for his new collection of books, which comprised of modern stories he enjoyed along with older tombs he was able to get his hands on. To cover the costs (because Aziraphale felt dishonest in just miracling their house to be free), they started a small cafe with flexible hours and a homey atmosphere. Aziraphale tried his hand at coffee for awhile, eventually becoming good enough at it to add drinks to their cafe menu. Their cafe wasn't super popular, but it allowed them to make friends with their regulars, so it was still good. They still had Baking Wednesdays and Board Game Thursdays, but now they took time to make it special. On Thursdays, when they all were done playing board games, they would all go to the back porch, drinking wine and looking at the stars. Crowley would tell everyone about the ones he had come up with, and Anathema would occasionally respond with a scientific fact about that star, if something important had happened involving it.

They still kept up Friday nights, with just the two of them, but now they could sit out in the garden on an old picnic blanket and pretend they were in Eden on the first night.

Once they were settled, Aziraphale decided to take one last piece of advice from Gabriel and seek out a therapist. He and Crowley each found a separate practice back in Soho that they could reasonably commute to and started scoping them out. It took a few tries to find therapists that clicked with each of them, but in the end it was worth it. Plus, it gave them an excuse to come back to the big city and visit friends.

The baking every week and the general happiness worked its magic on Aziraphale's body, and before he knew it he looked like he had before the initial panic attack. At first, this bothered him. But with time, careful thoughts, and help from his therapist, he learned not to care. Eating became less of a battle, and over time he was finally able to feel comfortable in his own skin.

They got a cat, a big fluffy Maine Coon they named Ophelia, to fill some of the space in their cottage, and she declared herself queen of the place almost immediately. Her favorite hobbies included curling up in Aziraphale's lap while he read books, exploring the garden while Crowley practiced positive self-talk vicariously through his plants (his therapist's idea), and plopping herself down in front of anyone who would look at her, demanding to be pet. She also let Aziraphale run his hands through her fur on nights when he felt lonely or when his thoughts went too far in a direction he didn't want them to. And on nights when Crowley woke up and Aziraphale wasn't awake to hold him, she would curl up on his chest and purr until he went back to sleep.

At first, Aziraphale had been nervous. He had worried that he would wake one morning and the last few months would be a dream. After that didn't happen, he started to feel guilty, as though he somehow didn't deserve the life he was living. That feeling began to go away after a year or so, though he'd had to work on it. It was easier to feel happy when so many things around him were good. And he noticed one morning that he felt no weight on his chest anymore, no cold feeling in his belly, no ache in his heart. He looked around his room as the sun peeked in through the curtains, as Crowley gently snored next to him, as Ophelia (conqueror of all the foot room in the bed) looked up at him with a gentle "brrrr?", and as he listened to the cicadas outside chirping. And in that moment, he realized he felt happy. Truly happy and free. Part of his anxiety still lingered, still wondered if he truly deserved a life this good, but now he was finally able to say to himself with full certainty that he did. Not because he'd earned it, though he had worked hard. Not because he was good enough for it, though he did his best. It was simply because happiness does not need to be deserved.

Happiness cannot be earned like a promotion or bought like an item, though those things can bring happiness. Happiness is like a warm breeze on a cool day - a natural event that comes and goes freely, without being coerced. We do not look at the rain in the summer and ask if we deserve it - we only celebrate when it is there and, when it is not, recognize that we cannot truly have rain all the time. Nobody can always be happy, even with the best life in the world. Such is the nature of things. Rather than spend life chasing after happy days or mourning on sad ones, we must accept feelings for what they are - just that - and allow ourselves to be.

And in that moment, Aziraphale allowed himself to be happy. He looked at his feeling and said it was good. And he rested for a little while longer, until he heard Crowley stir, and he smiled, rolling over and savoring the way his husband's hair glowed in the morning sunlight.

"Good morning, Crowley. I love you."

* * *

an: Thank you for reading!


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